


The Soul You Save May Be Your Own

by MaraLynnCade



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Sam, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Hurt/Comfort, Lactating, M/M, Medical Exam, Medical Procedures, Mpeg, Omega Castiel, Omega Dean, Physical Abuse, Piercing, Sounding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2019-10-23 01:41:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 24
Words: 52,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17673998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaraLynnCade/pseuds/MaraLynnCade
Summary: Sam is a veterinary technician and volunteers for a Animal Rescue organization.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Animal lovers may find this chapter disturbing.

Sam Winchester dreaded days like this. Sam Winchester lived for days like this. He had dedicated his life to his job. His work was his passion. It was also his nightmare. At age 20, he was a seasoned veteran. He had been a vet tech for a year and a half. He had been a volunteer with Animal Rescue for more than three times that long. He knew what to expect. He had been on dozens of these missions. But he also knew that just when you thought you had seen it all, seen the worst that man could do to another living creature, some sadistic bastard came along and shocked you to your core. Sam steeled himself for the job ahead.

“Are we ready?” Sam asked Sheriff Mills.

She turned to him, doe like eyes narrowed into conviction. “The paper work is in order. Got the arrest warrants, the search warrants and the Court order for the seizures. Counting myself there are seven officers standing by to assist. Is your team set?”

“Yeah. We have twenty volunteers, all seasoned rescuers. We are divided into teams. We will do a fast sweep of the site to assess the situation. Photos and videos of everything to document conditions. Triage flags to categorize the medical status. Teams have been instructed to watch for any records, on paper or video. Our goal is to provide enough evidence to put these bastards behind bars for a good long time. Crowley has gotten away with a slap on the wrist too many times. This time we want to get him good.”

“You are preaching to the choir, Winchester. No sirens. We want to catch these bad boys with their pants down. Any questions?” Jody addressed the eager volunteers and waiting officers. “Everyone set? Let’s roll!”

 

The raid went better than Sam had expected. Sheriff Mills had Crowley and his son in custody, handcuffed and sweating in the back seat of her squad car. The undercover videos of the dog fights had been sufficient to secure the arrest warrants. It had been Sheriff Mills’ idea to execute the raid early Sunday morning. It was her experience that the bad guys tended to still be in bed, sleeping off the effects of Saturday night.

The puppy barn had been better than Sam expected- that’s not to say it was good. It was the typical conditions of too many dogs in too little space with no loving care. The place reeked of feces and urine, the sawdust bedding was thoroughly soaked and soiled. Flies, fleas and mites abounded to plague the puppies- dozens and dozens of them penned waiting to be shipped to pet stores. At least these pups had adequate food and water, after all these were their marketable products. Sam designated one team to document the conditions, and two more to start processing the pups for transport.

The treatment room made even his most seasoned volunteers pale. Blood stained the tables as well as the shears and knives used to dock tails, crop ears and remove dewclaws. A tub of rancid flea bath sat in one corner, a solid layer of dead insects covered the surface. Quarts of isoprophyl alcohol lined one shelf, the only evidence of sanitation. Any Veterinary would be appalled by these conditions.

The breeders’ barn made grown men want to cry. Cage after cage after cage of pregnant or nursing bitches. Dogs that never saw sunlight, ran on grass or played fetch. The smell was overpowering- urine, feces, rotten food, death. Flies were everywhere. Cages were labeled by breed, the animal within each too matted and filthy to be recognizable. Sam did a quick cage count. Three rows of cages, ten to each row. A few seemed to be empty. Sam glanced into one where a thick cloud of flies buzzed, to find a rotting, maggot filled corpse. Their rescue came too late for some. 

Do your job, Sam lectured himself, guilt and regrets helped no one and nothing. Keep your head in the here and now. It was good that Charlie had alerted the rescue network. Volunteers from near and far were enroute to transport excess animals to other shelters and adoption facilities. The walkie talkie in his pocket crackled to life.

“There’s another barn.” Sheriff Mills’ tinny voice announced. “It’s padlocked. My men are working to cut the lock now.”

“On my way.” Sam answered as he signaled his most experienced, most hardened team. In these situations, locks weren’t a good sign. Sam delegated care of the breeders to the remaining teams. The bitches would be frightened, leary of humans. They would need gentle handling. Bobby and Jo joined him as he made his way back outside.

The deputies were just rolling open the door as Sam and his team approached. The din of barking dogs was deafening, manic. These were not the sweet yips of puppies eager for affection or the pathetic whimpers of the breeders hoping for fresh food and water. This was full throated, I hate your guts and want to eat yours entrails, surround sound killing fervor. Here there were no cages. Each steel barred enclosure held a single occupant- a large, violent killing machine on four paws. Eleven fighting dogs. It was a bigger dog fighting operation than the undercover video had indicated.

Sam sighed. They had foreseen this possibility. The paperwork was in order. After viewing the video, the authorities had mandated that the public be protected from such hazards. Sam knew it wasn’t the animals’ fault, they were just doing what they had been trained to do. But in good conscious, he couldn’t allow these dogs to go to homes. Sam hated his part of his job.

“Jo, be sure you get photos and video on each dog. Bobby, you know the drill. We’ll need the heavy duty catch poles. I’ll prep the injections.”

There would be no rescues here. These animals were too dangerous. All Sam could offer was humane euthanasia.

 

Sam’s jaw tightened, a muscle twitching, as the last barrel chest stilled. Eleven down. He gave the scarred flank a gentle pat. He wondered if the beast had ever been given any affection in its brief, violent life.

Bobby stepped up to release the catch poles. They were no longer needed to restrain the animal. He knelt beside Sam to unbuckle the muzzle with calloused but gentle hands.

“Take a breather, boy.” the gruff man offered. “You’ve earned it. The situation is under control. I’ll see to things here.” 

Sam nodded wearily. If anyone understood how much this part of the job pained him, it was Bobby. Over the years, they’d been through a lot of shit together. Bobby understood. He knew that even though Sam hated this part of job, he would never, in good conscience, assign it to any one else. The boy, the man was like that.

“Thanks, Bobby.” Sam answered, sorrow softening his voice. He stood, stretching his lanky 6’4” frame until his joints popped. He turned slowly. He took one last look of regret at his handiwork, at the corpses. It had had to be done. Sam closed his eyes, firmed his jaw. He fought back memories of past missions, past losses. Of doing what had to be done. That phrase in his father’s gravelly voice echoed in his memories. Doing what had to be done. Sam summoned strength from his inner reserves. He turned to leave this scene of death.


	2. Chapter 2

Outside the barn, the sunshine that greeted Sam was surprising. It was a beautiful day, still well before noon. At the other barns he could see his teams diligently at work, ferrying transport cages to the waiting trucks. He heaved a sigh of relief. All of the cages in sight were tagged with green triage cards- no immediate medical crises. Of course, his crew would have already identified and field treated any emergency cases to be transferred to the clinic for veterinary services. It looked like the situation was indeed well under control.

“Winchester!” Sheriff Mills called to him from near the house. Sam acknowledged her with a wave as he moved toward her. His long legs quickly ate the distance separating them. “Everything taken care of over there?” She gestured with her chin toward the barn at Sam’s back. His grim nod and steely eyes were enough of an answer. “Good news is, I think we got these bastards cold. My boys are hip deep in evidence-a slew of videos of dog fights, breeding records, betting receipts— Hell, we’ve even come across what looks like duplicate accounting books. One that shows next to nothing profits, the other with a very healthy six figure balance. We’ve even got bags of bloody money- last night’s take would be my guess. We could have a case of income tax fraud and money laundering. There isn’t any way these SOBs are walking away from this. We got these bastards.” She concluded with satisfaction.

“That’s good.” Sam answered, still feeling subdued. It was hard to feel in a celebratory mood given his recent work. “I’d like to thank you and your men for all your support and hard work.”

THe sheriff nodded, then shook her head. “I should tell you that we’re just doing our job, our duty. We protect and serve. But I got to tell you that there is a lot of satisfaction in nailing these bastards to the wall. Crowley, with that smug little smirk of his, struts around Lawrence like it’s his private kingdom. And that worthless piece of shit he calls a son! Daddy and Granny Dearest have been buying his way out of trouble since grade school.”

“I hear you.” Sam offered a weary smile that slid into a frown as he noticed a padlocked storm cellar at the back of the rambling farmhouse. “Have you checked out what’s in the basement?”

“Not yet.” Jody admitted, her eyes now riveted on the locked door. “My men are doing a thorough search of the house. Got bogged down when we hit the office on the second floor. Just too good to be true. Evidence galore. It all needs to be documented, inventoried, tagged and bagged. Proper procedures. No slip ups. This case isn’t falling apart because we screw up.”

“Yeah, of course not. No mistakes, no legal loopholes.” Sam responded absently, still eyeing the secured bulkhead. “But I’ve got a bad feeling about that. Sheriff, where are those bolt cutters?”

“In the back of my squad car. I’ll get them. You think there’s more stashed below?”

“I hope not. But it’s best to be sure.”

 

Sam used all his strength to sever the hasp with the cutter’s jaws. With the lock out of the way, he bent to open one half of the door, while Sheriff Mills folded back the other side. Musty, stale air rose from the depths. Sheriff Mills frowned, wrinkling her nose in distaste. Over the dankness, a more urgent scent hit Sam, confirming his worst suspicions.

“Gonna need my team.” Sam muttered, transfixed. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Jody said peering into the dark chamber beneath the house. “I don’t see anything.”

Sam looked at her, realizing belatedly that she was a Beta and therefore immune to the subtlety that screamed at him. “Omegas. More than one. In distress.”

“Then let’s get in there.” The sheriff urged.

“Not yet.” Sam answered stiffly, “I need my team.” While the Sheriff summoned them via the walkie talkie, Sam made a conscious effort to balance his own pheromonal output. If he charged in unprepared, in enraged Alpha mode, he would likely do more damage and further traumatize the Oms. Sam drew in a deep breath and held it for the count of five seconds. He concentrated on projecting calm, protection and gentle caring. This had been a part of his EVT training in which he had excelled.

Bobby arrrived, burdened by the medical bags, puffing heavily from his run. Jo, cameras slung around her neck, one cupped in each hand, was hot on his heels. Sam was ready for them now. It was time to get to work. 

“We have multiple Omegas.” Sam summarized as he relieved Bobby of a med bag. “At least one is seriously injured. And one is carrying.” He saw the Sheriff’s eyes widen, surprised he supposed that he could know that much from just their scent. “I’ll lead the way. Jo, at my back, filming, full documentation. Sheriff, you and Bobby will bring up the rear. Everyone must stay calm and focused on caring for the Omegas. No shouting. No abusive language. If you can’t do that, speak up now.” 

 

The sunlight didn’t reach far into the depths of the subterranean level. Jo’s camera lighting provided a small bubble of illumination as she scanned the chamber slowly. Sam moved steadily forward. He didn’t need sight to zero in on the Omegas but the others would. “Bobby,” he directed calmly, “See if you can find the lights.” A beam of light, a flashlight, veered off as the older man began his search.

Sam advanced slowly but steadily. Stopping only when he had to, right up against the cell wall. The bars were the same type that had secured the fighters. Sam groped blindly, found the door, the chain and the lock. Jo’s dim lighting revealed the cage’s occupants huddled, motionless, against the back wall.

“Bobby, we need light.” Sam kept his voice calm but firm.

“Working on it.” Bobby’s gruff voice echoed out of the darkness. “Think I got it.” Harsh fluorescent lights flashed on overhead. Sam blinked against the brightness. The Omegas seemed to have shrunk even more against the wall. Sam could see now that one was cradling the other, on a stained threadbare mattress. The blond, obviously in the later stages of pregnancy, held the dark haired one protectively to his chest. He stroked the pale face that was fever damp. Neither Omega looked up at the rescue team, both were visibly trembling, whether from fear or fever or both. Sam could also see that the dark haired one’s respiration was rapid and shallow. His hand closed around the lock. He needed to get in there. Now.

“These might help, kid.” Bobby was back at his side, offering a ring of keys. “Found ‘em hanging at the top of the stairs. Next to the light switch.” Sam made no move to take the keys. He stood transfixed, staring at the Omegas, doing who knew what all that Alphas do. Bobby had seen the kid like this before. He didn’t understand all this Alpha/Omega crap but he’d seen Sam use it to good effect at times before. Bobby shouldered him aside and started trying to fit a key to the lock. It took a few tries but at last a key turned, opening the padlock. Bobby drew the chain through the bars and swung open the door.

The blond tucked his head lower, gripped his companion tighter, trying to curve his swollen body to shelter the other. The movement turned his back toward the team, revealing fresh welts over a fretwork of old scars. Jo gave a small cry of empathy.

“Steady.” Sam cautioned, drawing a calming breath to quell his own outrage- how could anyone beat a pregnant Om? He couldn’t think of that now. He had work to do. “Jo, are you filming?” At her affirmation, he continued. “I’m going in. I want everyone else to hang back. We don’t want to overwhelm them.”

Slowly, Sam advanced. Gradually he lowered himself to the edge of the filthy mattress. The blond made a small desperate attempt to draw further into the wall with his burden.

“It’s okay. We’re here to help. We won’t hurt you.” Sam spoke softly, calmly. “Your friend is sick. I can help.” Sam pulled a bottle of glucose water from his med bag. He broke the seal and held it out to the Omega. “You look thirsty. I have water.” That prompted a quick cautious glance from beneath the matted blond hair. After a interminable pause a trembling hand reached out to snatch the offered bottle. The blond sniffed the bottle suspiciously. He took a small experimental sip, then positioned it at his companion’s lips. Carefully he tipped it up to trickle the liquid into the slack mouth.

Sam watched patiently, touched by the Omega’s selflessnesss. When several ounces had been swallowed, Sam cautioned, “That’s enough for now. Too much, too fast will make his stomach hurt.” Reluctantly the Omega righted the bottle. “You should drink more.” Sam urged. He placed another sealed bottle on the mattress. The blond stared at the new bottle, then quickly gulped down the remainder of the one he held. “You can drink more in an little while.” Sam said calmly. “Your friend is hurt. He needs medical care.” Sam eased closer. “He’s lost a lot of blood.” The mattress was soaked with fresh blood, strained with dried blood. “This will help.” With quick efficient effort, Sam inserted an intravenous needle into the dark one’s arm. He hung the bag of Ringer’s lactate from the cross bar of the cell. It was a start, Sam thought with satisfaction. He secured the IV with a strip of tape then felt for a pulse. It was too slow, barely perceptible beneath his fingers. Sam reached into his bag, located the portable respirator by touch and extracted it. Opening the flow of oxygen, he placed the mask over the dark haired Omega’s nose and mouth. Pain glazed, heavenly blue eyes opened as Sam adjusted the strap to hold the mask in place. There was fear in those eyes but the Om was too weak to struggle. “It’s alright, Angel.” Sam soothed, stroking the sweat damp, long hair. “This will help you breath. Can you tell me, show me where you hurt?”

The dark one’s hand twitched feebly, the blond responded laying a gentle hand on his companion’s abdomen. Sam placed his hand carefully on the distended belly. The flesh beneath his fingers was clammy, rigid. He pressed lightly, working his way over the upper quadrants as he assessed the situation. When he moved lower, the Omega’s lips parted in a soundless cry.

“Sorry, Angel.” Sam pulled back, fairly sure of what the cause was. “Have you whelped recently?”

The tiny silent nod accompanied by a single tear wrenched Sam’s heart and heightened is concern for his patient.

”I’ll alert my men about the baby.” Sheriff Mills volunteered.

Sam shook his head sadly. “The baby’s gone. Sold.” The Omega’s silent flow of tears confirmed his assessment. “Newborns fetch a hefty price on the black market.”

“Bobby, grab a couple of blankets from upstairs.” Sam directed as he pulled his cell phone from his back pocket. He had the clinic’s number on speed dial. “Sheriff, we’ll need transport. The trucks will be too full and too rough of a ride for these two.” He switched mode as his call went through. “Charlie, we’ll be coming in with two Omegas. Top Priority. Alert Jesse. Prep for emergency surgery. Uterine sepsis. I’ve started an IV. Patient is barely conscious, shocky and in pain.”

“Copy that, team one. We’ll be ready for you.” Charlie answered, all efficiency. “Status of Omega Two?”

“Stable, third trimester, alert and functioning. Malnourished. Severe trauma to the back. I’ll give you an ETA when we’re underway.”

Bobby was back with an armful of bedding. Sam freed a blanket from his bundle. He spread it over the cleanest part of the mattress while Bobby draped another gently over the blond’s shoulders. Trembling hands rose to clutch the blanket, appreciating its meager warmth and protection.

“Give me a hand, Bobby. Easy does it.” With great care they lifted the ill Omega onto the blanket. Sam covered him with another, swaddling the motionless figure. Sam looked up as the Sheriff returned, her expresssion troubled. He straightened to face her.

“Sheriff, what’s our transport?”

“My unit is the best I can offer. Ambulance refused to come. Omegas aren’t in their service specs.” Her mouth was set in a sneer of distaste. “We’ll be having a discussion about that at a later date.”

“You’ll be fighting a losing battle.” Sam offered as he bent to carefully lift Om One into his arms.”Prejudice runs deep. Most folks consider Omegas to be subhuman. A convenience. A nuisance. At best a cross between a pet, a sex toy and an incubator.”

Sam led the way out to the squad car. Bobby followed carrying Om Two. Somehow, still cradling the limp body, Sam managed to maneuver his large frame into the squad car’s back seat. The Sheriff hung the IV bag from the grill partition as Bobby settled his burden on the other side. The pregnant omega rolled onto his knees, curling into the space between the front and back seat, trying despite his bulk to take up as little space as possible. Bobby clambered into the hatchback of the SUV, leaving the front passenger seat for Jo and her cameras. 

The police car started off with the roar of the engine and a spray of gravel. Sam dug his cell phone out again as Sheriff Mills hit the lights and siren.

“Sheriff, what’s our ETA?’’

‘’Ten minutes, fifteen tops.”

Sam dutifully relayed the information. 

“Bring them in, Team One. We’re ready for you.”


	3. Chapter 3

Their arrival initiated a well orchestrated flurry of activity. Two stretchers were rolled out to meet the Sheriff’s SUV. Gentle caring hands lifted the crouching, pregnant Omega from it place onto a stretcher. More hands freed Sam from his burden. Sam unfolded himself from the vehicle, taking up the IV bag to accompany the stretchers into the clinic. Once past the doors, Charlie directed the stretcher bearing Om One to the surgery suite and the other to the triage/treatment area.

“You scrubbing in?” The red haired pixie, who served as the clinic’s office manager and rescue coordinator, asked Sam.

“Yeah.” He looked down at his bloodied clothes. “He’s lost a lot of blood.”

“”We have lots of plasma on hand. Go change and scrub. Jesse will appreciate your help.”

“Bobby, stick with Om Two.” Sam directed. “A familiar face might keep him calm.”

“Sure thing, Kiddo. I know the drill. This ain’t my first rodeo.” The gruff, down home attitude earned a weary chuckle from Sam. “And I’ll keep an eye on Dr. Oooh-La-La too.” 

As Sam started to move off, Bobby stopped him with a firm grip on his shoulder. He knew his young friend carried a shit load of emotional baggage regarding Omegas. This rescue had to have been hard on the boy.

“We did good today, Sam. We saved lives. You can be proud of that.”

Sam tightened his mouth and gave a small nod of acknowledgement. “Thanks. Bobby.” We closed his eyes for a moment’s respite, pulling himself together. “Hey, I need to get moving. This surgery won’t be pretty.”

 

Om-2, as the clinic staff had designated him, lay curled upon his side on the rolling cot. He kept his eyes tightly closed, his hands clutching the soft warmth of the blanket, his arms wrapped around the swell of his whelp. He wanted desperately to make himself smaller, as small as possible. He wished that he could disappear, run away, be any where but here— here where the lights were so bright, where the air smelled harsh and full of chemicals. Where there were so many people rushing about that his head spun and vision blurred. Where strange Alphas lurked. Where they had taken his other away. Would he ever see the other again? A silent tear escaped to streak his dirty cheek.

“Hey, now, Darling. Don’t be scared.” The big bearded man was back at his side. “I ain’t gonna let nothing bad happen to you,” A big hand moved over his hair, petting gently, A calloused finger brushed over his cheek, drying the lone tear. “Just relax. No one’s gonna hurt you, Darling. We’re here to help.”

He wanted to believe what the big man was saying. He wanted to be safe, to be in a place where no one would hurt him, but experience had taught him that life was not that way- at least not for him or his kind. He chanced a quick peek at the man beside him. This was the man who had carried him from the holding pen. Had he claimed him? Was this his new owner? He sniffed the air cautiously, experimentally. The big man was not an Alpha. Did Betas claim Omegas?

Everything was so confusing, so different, so suddenly changed. Om-2 didn’t know what to do, what to think. But the big hand stroking his hair was gentle and soothing. Despite his confusion, he felt a little of his fear slip away.

A door opened. Firm footsteps approached, accompanied by the strong scent of an Alpha.

“Ooooh-Eee! Looky here!” A deep sing song voice broke the peacefulness. “”What a sweet treat Uncle Bobby has for me!” Dr. Benny LaFitte stepped into the room, a smarmy grin on his five o’clock shadowed face .

The hands petting him remained gentle but the gruff voice growled a warning. “You listen up! And listen good! I ain’t your uncle. You keep your hands and your glands professional or you and me are gonna have an attitude adjustment session that just might rearrange that smug face of yours. Comprend-eh?”

Benny took a teasing step back, raising his hands in surrender. “Oh, I understand, mon ami. This tasty little one has stirred even a Beta’s protective instincts.”

“This little one has been through hell.” Bobby shot back. “He needs medical care, not any of your ‘good time’ B.S. So do your job or get out and I’ll tend to him myself.”

“I shall be a ‘good’ doctor.” Benny assured as he pulled on a pair of surgical gloves. “And you shall be my nurse.” He purposely ignored the older man’s frown of disapproval as he handed him a patient chart. “Shall we begin?”

Benny stepped up to the stretcher, on the opposite side from Bobby. He freed a slim wrist away from the folds of the blanket, positioned his fingers and concentrated. “Pulse 90, a bit erratic, but no more than to be expected given the circumstances.” He turned the wrist, freed the other from its clenched grip. “Scarring on both wrists, indicative of prolonged bondage.” Dutifully Bobby made notations on the chart. He noted the scarring on the diagram that was part of the patient record. Benny lowered both arms, finding no resistance. With practice ease, he ran his hands up the thin arms to the collar bone. “Some swelling and tenderness of the right clavicle. An x-ray will be needed to confirm but I suspect a healing fracture. Scarring on the left clavicle and upper chest. Possibly acid burns, perhaps an attempt to remove a previous owner’s mark.”

Grim faced, tight lipped, Bobby recorded the identifying marks. The Omega’s condition might be used as evidence against Crowley and son at their trial. That’s why Sam was so adamant that every rescue be photographed and filmed. It did little good if the court just gave the innocent creatures they rescued back to the their owners. And if this Omega was adopted by a new owner, there would be a record of his condition. Any further abuse could be prosecuted as well.

The hands moved on, skimming up the collared neck, over the cranium and the facial features. “A least they did not ruin this pretty face.” Benny ran his thumb over the lush lips. He spared his assistant a glance when Bobby growled. Wisely, he returned to the metal band around the slender throat. “Has he spoke?”

“Ain’t neither of ‘em made a sound.”

Benny nodded, his face suddenly grim. “Mute collar, it’s been on a number of years, I’d say. Paralyzes the vocal cords. Keeps an Om quiet if not cooperative. For now we'd best leave that be. It will take surgery, maybe a specialist to have any hope of restoring speech.” He shrugged. “And lots of Alphas prefer a quiet Om.”

Bobby wanted to tell the Doc what he thought of his devil may care attitude, but held his tongue. LaFitte was a good Vet- Jesse sure thought highly of her partner, but Bobby wasn’t sure he was a good man. He understood that a medical professional had to maintain a distance, keep a dispassionate front to treat the injured. But Bobby thought Benny might take it a bit too far.

The doctor went on with his examination. He shifted the blanket aside to expose more of the Omega’s upper body. Beneath his hands, Benny felt the Om tense. “Easy little one. Just need to check your equipment.” He skimmed his hands over the protruding rib cage. “Underweight, most definitely malnourished. I estimate 30-40 pounds underweight” He cupped the small breasts, deliberately massaging the little mounds. “Good mammary development. Lactating. Evidence that this isn’t this one’s first gestation.” Benny hummed appreciatively. “Nice set of titties. More than a mouth is wasted, eh, mon ami?” He threw Bobby a devilish grin as he dried his hands on the available blanket.

Before Bobby could retort, Benny pulled out his stethoscope. “Let’s take a listen. Hmm. Chest sounds clear. Heart beat is strong.” Benny pushed the blanket lower to expose the rounded abdomen. His hands stroked, prodded the big belly. “Good fetal movement. Fetus is positioned high, not engaged in the whelping channel yet. I’d say three, maybe four weeks til he’s ripe.” He bent nearer to reposition the stethoscope. “Strong fetal heartbeat but...” He frowned and shifted the position of the device, once, twice, three times.

“Something wrong with the baby?” Bobby demanded, worry clouding his voice, his note taking momentarily forgotten. 

“Babies, at least two, I’d say. We’ll need an ultrasound to confirm.” Benny pulled the blanket lower still. He lifted the Omega’s upper leg, moved it out of the way to continue his exam. “Penis is intact. Undersized, as is to be expected. Some scarring. There is a Prince Albert piercing, the urethral opening is enlarged. Testes are vestigial as one would expect in an Omega. No unusual swelling or tenderness. Let’s get him onto his back so I can do an internal exam and ultrasound.”

“That’s gonna be a problem. You ain’t seen his back yet. It’s raw from a beating. Scabbed over some so it ain’t fresh but must still be plenty painful.” 

Benny skirted the stretcher to join Bobby at the Omega’s back side. He blew out a breath and a string of Cajun cursing. “Change of plans.” The Vet announced abruptly. “I’m going to debrade the back. Then you can give him a bath and settle him down for a rest. I don’t want to over stress him in his condition. I’ll finish the exam later.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ,

“Merde! The bastards did an number on this little one!” Benny bent to inspect the damage more closely. He shook his head, dismayed. “And this is not the first time.” He touched the torn flesh gently, prodded a particularly angry looking welt. He felt the Om tremble beneath his touch. “Infection has set in. This must be treated immediately.” The Vet turned to the nearby cabinets. He began to gather the supplies he would need. “Put the chart aside, Bobby. I’ll need your help. I can’t sedate this little one without risking damage to the fetus. The faster this is done, the more merciful it will be.”

“Tell me what to do.”

“Go around the table. Okay. Let’s sit him up.” The two men lifted the unresisting Omega into an upright position, seated facing Bobby. “That’s right. Hold him steady.” Bobby stepped nearer, drawing the beaten Omega against his chest. “Good. Keep him in that position while I work.”

Thick fingers carded through the matted blond hair. “Just rest against me, Darling.” Bobby drawled. He felt the Om obediently melt into his support. “That’s it. Let the Doc do his job and you just rest as best you can.”

“Here we go. Steady” LaFitte began at the hunched shoulders. In one hand he held a syringe of sterile antiseptic solution, several more lay ready nearby. In his other hand he had a syphon tube to carry off the fluid, as well as the flushed out debris. Benny worked deftly, carefully as he patiently treated each wound. He worked systematically down the scarred back. It took time but Bobby was relieved to see that the Cajun Vet was all business here, working both quickly and efficiently.

“How’s he holding up?” Benny asked as he returned to examine a swollen scarred over area, below the right scapula. 

“Breathing is steady.” Bobby reported. He tipped the shaggy head up slightly for a more acccurate assessment. “Kind of zoned out, gone to that place of Omega submission and endurance, I’d say. Seems to be holding up well enough though.”

“There's an abscess here. Hold him still while I lance it.” Heeding the warning, Bobby tightened his grip, pressing the lax face to his midsection. “Must be where the belt buckle bit in extra deep.” Benny commented as he made a small incision into the infected mass. Immediately a stream of grey/green matter flowed from the small wound. Benny wiped away the flow, applying gentle pressure to drain the pocket of infection completely. He irrigated the abscess with the antiseptic solution until the fluid ran clear.

“That should do it. A quick couple of stitches to close this. There. Now let’s get him showered off before I dress these wounds. We can bed him down after that.” Together the men carried the limp Omega to the wash station across the hall. Quick hands spread the medicated cleansing agent. Warm water washed away the suds and filth. When they were finished, Bobby wrapped Om-2 in several terry towels and carried him back to the treatment room. Benny quickly stripped away the stretcher soiled covering before Bobby set their patient down.

LaFitte was all business now. He did a quick check of pulse and respiration before inserting an IV to supply nutrients and a systemic antibiotic. He considered briefly including a piggyback of pain killers but protocol dictated that he treat the developing fetus as a priority. The carrier’s condition wasn’t critical. Any pain the Omega was feeling seemed to be tolerable therefore topical analgesics were indicated. Benny applied a thick layer of analgesic/antibiotic gel across the lacerated flesh. He covered the open wounds with gauze pads, winding more cloth bandages around the Om’s chest to secure the dressings.

“That’s it for now.” The vet concluded. “I’m going to do a blood draw. Get lab work done so we can get ahead of that infection and any vitamin deficiencies the fetus may have.” Benny suited his actions to his words, setting aside several vials for analysis.“You can bed him down for a rest now. Keep the dressing dry. I’ll check his progress in 24 hours. Keep him on a light diet for starters. Boiled chicken and rice. No more than 3 ounces at a time. See how he keeps that down. Plenty of fluids. Don’t want his kidneys shutting down.” Benny dictated instructions while straightening the treatment room, prepping it for the next patient. Bobby duly noted it all on the patient chart, even though he would have done all that without this gator jockey’s say so. He didn’t have a fancy college degree but he’d been taking care of critters in need since before this yahoo was out of diapers.

“Anything else?” Bobby drawled, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the other man’s directives. The Cajun tended to talk a lot but say little of importance - at least to Bobby’s way of thinking. Jesse thought highly of the guy, enough to let him buy a partnership in her practice. Sam was more reticent in giving his opinion. That was enough to make Bobby leary of the Cajun and his ‘Rollez les bon temps’ attitude. Seeing to sick and endangered animals was serious business.

“Any idea where I can bed him down?” Bobby asked. “Last time I checked all the holding pens and cages were filled to overflowing.”

The question made Benny pause. Rarely did they treat Omegas. And when they did, it was usually on an outpatient basis. Alphas were reluctant to let their Oms out of their control. Benny scratched his chin in thought. “I’d say you’ll have to consult our ever efficient Charlie regarding Omega accommodations. But I warn you if she has commendeered my office, I will consider this little one to be my ‘bonus’.”

Bobby scowled as LaFitte departed with a rolling laugh. Damn it, Bobby cursed under his breath. He just didn’t trust the man. Perhaps sensing his unease, the injured Omega stirred on the exam table. Bobby turned his attention back to his charge. He tucked a soft warming blanket around the curled body. Bobby stoked the damp hair once more. 

“Just rest, Darling. Tomorrow will be better." The big man promised. "Tomorrow you’ll feel better.”

True to their expectations, Charlie had foreseen the need for Omega accommodations. From somewhere, she had found two cots and had them set up in the clinic’s adoption room. It was a good choice, Bobby thought as he carried in Om-2. The room was bright and cheerful with a cartoonish mural of frolicking puppies and kittens. High horizontal windows provided sunlight and could be opened for fresh air. A Dutch door separated the small room from the reception/waiting area. The door could be closed completely for privacy, security. Or the top portion opened to supervise activity within.

Bobby nodded with satisfaction as he lowered the pregnant Omega onto a cot. It wasn’t plush but it was comfortable and clean. In every way it was a big improvement over the conditions in which they had found the pair. He quickly set up the IV feed. He placed a bottle of Pediasure nearby, thought about for a second or two, broke the seal and inserted a straw to make it easier to drink.

Food was the next order of business. As ordered by the Doc, he went to the supply kitchen for the rice and ground chicken mix that they kept on hand for patients with gastric or dietary problems. Obviously they’d been going through a lot of the feed with the influx from the rescue. Someone must have just cooked up a new batch. The portion Bobby measured out from the supply refrigerator was still warm. Bobby sniffed at the mixture in the stainless steel bowl. Not much aroma. It would be bland, without salt or seasoning. It didn’t hold a candle to Karen’s cooking, Bobby thought proudly. But the food was filling and nutritious as well as easy to digest. 

Bobby made the appropriate notations on the patient’s chart. Just for good measure he spread another blanket over his sleeping charge. He paused at the door. Everything looked good. He’d let Om-2 rest for now. He’d check in on him in an hour. Bobby closed the Dutch door and placed the patient chart in the holder outside the door. Well satisfied with his efforts he moved off to make himself useful elsewhere.


	5. Chapter 5

The door shut with a solid click. 

Omega-2 stayed limp. He had learned long ago, the hard way, that the less responsive one was to a knot or a hard hand, the less attention you got. He continued to feign sleep, while he concentrated his senses, all but his sight, on his surroundings. He scented no Alphas in his immediate vicinity. His ears detected no one else in the room. He was warm and surprisingly comfortable compared to his past experience. His back was nearly numb. His thirst was satisfied, easing the empty ache of his stomach. Even the whelp swelling his belly was still.

He drew in a deeper breath, scented again to be sure he was alone, that no Alpha lurked nearby. The air did not reek of fuckers or strange chemicals here. However there was an smell that called to him. He could not name it. Cautiously he parted his eyelids for a small peek out at this new world. 

Colors were every where! The grey darkness of his world was gone. Shock, wonder widened his eyes. There were no bars. No cage. No chains to the collar or to the cock ring to tether him. He shifted without thought. His first instinct was to escape, to run as far and as fast as he could. 

Om-2 drew himself upright. His back made a small protest but it was nothing compared to the agony that it had been. Eyes wide with wonder, he gaped at his surroundings. Bright light streamed in from high overhead. Through narrow openings in the wall, he could see slices of blue sky- a sight he barely remembered from the life he had lived long ago. The walls were covered with pictures of dogs and other animals, his brain worked to recall. Cats! They were cats. He studied the pictures nervously. He didn't mind the cats. They looked small and safe. But some of the dogs reminded him of the caged fighters the Masters had threatened to pen him with if he tried to run again. 

Om-2 fought back the renewed instinct to flee. He clutched the blanket more tightly around his body. The blanket. It was warm. And soft. And clean. He considered his body, his state of being. He was warm. He was clean. He ran a tentative hand through his thick, uncut mane. It was long and tangled but clean. He thought of the big Beta with the gentle hands. He remember the grinning Alpha- even his touch had not hurt too badly. Maybe...perhaps he should stay, wait, study this new place, these new owners. Maybe... Om-2 looked up at the small bits of sky and the golden sunlight again. The need to be free was strong. The memories of running free, playing beneath sunny, blue skies with his Other-- No,not the Other- his br—

The Other! Om-2 looked around frantically. Where was the Other? There was a second bed beside his. But it was empty. Where was the Other? What had the new ones done with his Other? He was not here! Om-2 realized, in a panic. Think, he told himself. Think. The soft spoken Alpha had taken the Other, he remembered. The soft spoken Alpha had promised to help. He had given them sweet water, he remembered, as he spied a bottle on the table between the beds. Om-2 grabbed the bottle, he fumbled with the stick-like thing in it. Pulled it out and drank deeply. It wasn’t water but it tasted good, felt good going down.

There was a shiny bowl on the table too. Om-2 sniffed the air again. This was the source of the smell that called to him. Cautiously he took up the bowl. It held a soft mass that smelled good. With his thumb and forefinger, he pinched off a small sample and brought it to his mouth. He swallowed. Food! Good food. Not hard, dry chunks that hurt to chew and sat heavy in the belly. His fingers automatically scooped up more. He filled his mouth as he stared at the empty bed. The other, he decided, he would wait for the other. Carefully he divided the food into two portions. He would save half for the Other. Since they had been together they had shared all things equally.

Om-2 finished off his portion of the food as he puzzled over the confusing thoughts circling in his head. There was a second bed- that was a fact. That meant it was possible the Other would be penned here too. Food and drink had been provided- more, better than he had had for days. No one- not an Alpha or a Beta had yelled at him. No one had hit him, deliberately caused him pain. The big Beta had promised that tomorrow would be better. Om-2 felt his face shift in an unusual way. A small smile curved his mouth. Today was already better. He felt a confusing something fill his chest. He didn’t have the name for what he felt. It had been too long for him to recognize the fragile emotion that was ‘Hope’.

 

Bobby spared a few minutes to give Karen a call. He wanted to check on how she and the kids were doing. Karen had planned on helping out with the rescue today. But she had begged off at the last moment. They had a trio of new kids, siblings with a dad serving a long sentence in prison and a mom in drug rehab after yet another overdose. When their caseworker called in the middle of the night for an emergency placement, Karen couldn't turn them away. Right now these kids needed her undivided attention. Yet she had insisted Bobby go along as planned to help out with the rescue. Karen didn't want to leave Sam without his best team. Even though they both knew Sam would understand.

His wife had a big heart, Bobby thought as his call rang through, a tender heart. She couldn’t stand idle while a creature suffered, whether it was a kid or a critter. When they had found out they couldn’t have children of their own, Karen had talked him into becoming a foster parent.

“We’ll take in a baby or maybe a toddler.” His wife had cajoled, “And if everything works out we can adopt him or her.”

“That ain’t how the system works, Honey.” He had corrected, shaking his head. “If they have a baby available for adoption there’s a whole line up of willing moms and dads. Kids in foster care are damaged goods, the ones no one wants.”

“I want them.” Karen had countered, as she snuggled into his arms, laying her head on his broad chest. “Please, Bobby. Meet with the caseworker. Come to the classes with me. You have so much love you could give, we both do. We could make a difference in a child’s life. A real difference. Please, Bobby.”

He never had been able to say ‘No’ to the woman. That was how Sam had come into their lives. He had been a snot nosed nine year old, scrawny, with only the clothes on his back. Clothes that were dirty and not good enough for a rag bag. The son of a chronic alcoholic, mother deceased, he was the product of long term neglect and emotional abuse. Sam had been the first of many. Maybe it was because he was the first, maybe it was because of his story. Bobby didn’t know why but Sam had a special place in his heart. Always had, always would.

"Singer Auto Body, how may I help you?" Karen's sweet voice answered.

"Just me, Sweetheart. Just checking in to see how things are going at home."

"Oh, the usual." Karen answered, puffing a breath up to blow a strand of hair out of her eyes. "We've had an assortment of temper tantrums and the some tears. I can’t talk long, we're still working on the concept of 'Time Out'." Bobby heard the strain in his wife’s voice.

"You sound tired." Bobby knew that none of them had gotten much sleep last night. Emergency placements, especially in early A.M. hours were hard on everyone. A dozen years as a foster parent had sure taught him that fact. "I'll finish up here quick and come home. Sam will understand."

"Bobby Singer! You will do no such thing! You are needed there. And there you will stay till the job is done. Besides there's not much you could help with here." Karen's voice dropped to an anguished whisper. "They cringe every time I get near them. Flinch if I move too quickly. They don't like to be touched. I think it might be better if you keep a low profile til they're more settled in. I know you're a teddy bear but they don't."

"I could bring them a puppy or two or three." Bobby suggested facetiously. "Show'em I'm not a bad guy."

"You'll do no such thing and you know it. A puppy is just one more thing to lose if they have to move on." Karen sighed. "Go on. We both have work to do. Supper will be at six. Ask Sam to join us."

"Yes, Ma'am. I love you."

"I love you too, you big galoot. Now get back to work."

Bobby grinned and cut the connection. God, he loved that woman.


	6. Chapter 6

"There ya go, little fella." Bobby shifted his hold on the tiny mewing creature to rinse its underbelly. "Oh, I know this is all new to you. Hell, the whole world is new to you and your litter mates." Bobby added as he worked to get all the flea shampoo out of the tiny male's coat. These pups were only a few days old, their eyes hadn't even opened yet. Normally he wouldn't think to bathe such newborns. But when mama was flea infested, so was the litter. It made no sense to treat one and not the others. But the real question was would mama accept or reject her freshly bathed brood. There was a chance, a significant chance that she'd give them a sniff and turn up her nose at them, not recognizing them as her own. Then they would have six newborn puppies in need of fostering.

Bobby snatched a towel from the pile of fresh laundry another volunteer had brought in a few minutes ago. This rescue mission was taxing all the clinic's resources, Bobby thought, as he wrapped the tiny puppy in the still warm from the dryer terry cloth. A grunt of complaint rose unbidden as he straightened from the wash basin. Good lord, he wasn't that old, was he? A couple hours shampooing critters shouldn't put that many kinks in a man's back. He felt Jo's eyes on him. Best he not let the young folks around here know his body was protesting or they'd be fussing over him like he was an old man. And he most definitely was not an old man!

"How's mama doing?" He asked as he stepped nearer. Jo held a basket containing the remainder of the freshly bathed litter. From the lack of sounds coming from that direction, Bobby figured the pups were sleeping, tired out by the novelty of a bath and lulled by the lack of biting vermin.

"She's scarfed down two helpings of feed. And drained her water bowl. I'm tempted to offer her more, she's just skin and bones, but I don't want to risk making her sick with too much, too soon." Jo reached into the crate to pet the curly ball of fur huddled inside. The dog, an overbred miniature poodle Bobby guessed, cringed away from the girl's hand. Jo moved slowly, letting the dog sniff her and settle before making contact. Gently, Jo stroked a tense flank. Little by little, the shivering dog relaxed under her gentle touch. 

"You can give her more in an hour or so." Bobby said, then added approvingly. "Looks like you're making a friend."

Jo smiled sadly, "They're all like this. I don't think any of them have ever been petted before. How can anyone be so mean?"

"You got me, Honey, I don't understand it either. I suppose all they see is the dollar signs not the cruelty." Bobby forced a smile. "How about we see what mama thinks of her spruced up brood? You put 'em in." Bobby offered her the puppy he had wrapped in the towel. "She's already familiar with your scent." The puppy whimpered pitifully as Jo lifted it. Mama dog picked up her head at the sound. That was a good sign. "Easy does it. Let her smell him." Bobby quarterbacked. He intended to take his time with the reintroduction especially since he had heard another bitch had turned on her pups, killing two, injuring another before the staff could intervene. "Yeah, that's it." 

Mama gave the mewing pup some tentative licks as Jo held the tiny creature. Jo laid the puppy down beside its mother and withdrew her hand. Mama angled her head to tongue her pup. She shifted to her side, exposing her swollen teats as she nudged the pup into place. Jo looked up at Bobby and grinned. Bobby allowed himself a smile. "Let's not get cocky. We got five more to go."

 

Trying to be as quiet as possible, Bobby cracked open the door to the clinic's adoption room, that had now been designated to house the rescued Omegas. He had made it a point to check on Om-2 as close to every hour as he could. All was quiet. Om-2 was still sleeping soundly, cocooned in the blankets.

Bobby moved nearer, trying his best not to disturb his rest. As he had each time, he checked the provisions he had previously set out. Bobby frowned as he considered the bottles of water and Pediasure. Both were still half full. That's what he had found on each of his previous two checks. Bobby looked at the contents of the food bowl. Yup, there was still food there too. Surely the Omega should have been more hungry and thirsty than that, Bobby thought, staring at the half eaten portion. Only then did he realize that the bowl was moved, it was positioned beside the empty cot. 

Well what do you know, Bobby thought as an idea hit him smack dab in the face. Given the care Om-2 had provided the other Omega back in that cellar, he should have thought of this sooner. Om-2 was saving a share for the other Omega.

Was that really possible?

It was widely believed that Omegas were incapable of abstract concepts such as altruism, sharing or even saving for a rainy day. It was accepted as fact that Oms lived in the here and now. A 'fact' that eased the conscience, no doubt, of breeders who sold their babies. Scientific studies had shown that they had no long term memory and limited short term memory. Their intelligence was rated as less than canines. Oh sure, it was possible to train an Omega with consistent diligence but free will, self determination, self motivation were beyond their capabilities.

As a Beta, Bobby didn't have much personal experience with Omegas. Most folks, he knew, thought of them as little more than a walking womb. Plant a seed, watch it grow. Some wackados considered them an abomination against all that was holy and crusaded about eliminating their temptation of the flesh. Bobby looked from the reserved half portions to the peacefully sleeping Om. He suspected there just might be more. At least to this particular Om. Very quietly, Bobby set out a fresh bowl of feed and full bottles of water and Pediasure. Almost as an afterthought he activated the video monitor mounted in the corner of the small room. The clinic staff used the device to evaluate potential adoption matches. Bobby figured it wouldn't hurt to see what Om-2 was up to when he thought no one was looking. That just might prove interesting and give them a better idea of his nature.

As quietly as he had entered, Bobby left the small room, shutting the door behind him.

 

The quiet footsteps moved off. Om-2 kept his breathing steady and even, feigning sleep. He had had years of practice, tricking the masters, trying to avoid attention, use or abuse. Sometimes his tricks worked. He felt the whelp in his belly kick as a reminder, sometimes the tricks didn’t. Om-2 didn’t react to the whelp’s stirring or the pressure on his bladder. Slow, even breaths. More quiet steps across the room, near the door. Go, Om-2 thought silently, fervently, leave me in alone. Alone was safe. Alone was good. He could smell the tantalizing scent of fresh food, good food again. His mouth watered at the thought of filling his stomach again, so soon. They had not been well cared for since the mistress had left. But even she had not been overly generous with their rations.

Whoosh. Click. The door had closed. Om-2 remained inert, still pretending to be asleep. He counted his breaths, one for each finger, just to be sure the big Beta was gone. When he finally thought it was safe, he opened his eyes and levered himself upright on the edge of the bed. The food called to him. His stomach rumbled but he had a more urgent priority. The whelp kicked again, hard, increasing the pressure on his full bladder. He had to pee right now. Mindful of the clean, soft bed and the warm blanket, he got to his feet carefully. He didn't like living in filth but had often been forced to do so. Om-2 looked around the room, trying to decide where to piss.

The two beds filled most of the space. At the far end of the room, places to sit- a couch and a couple of chairs- were lined up against the wall. He thought the weird leash stuck in his arm would reach that far. There was a basket filled with bright colored things on one of the chairs. Wondering if that might serve his purpose he shuffled over to examine it. He dumped the strange contents onto the couch. A round something- a ball, his memory told him belatedly- rolled off the edge and bounced away to hide under the chair. Some of the things squeaked shrilly as they landed. He didn't like the sounds at all, afraid someone might hear and come see what that noise was. And the basket would not be good for peeing in, it had holes in its sides. 

Disappointed, still aching to pee but not wanting to soil this new holding pen by just doing it in the corner, he turned toward the door. There was something beside the door. Maneuvering around the foot of the empty bed- the bed he hoped was for his other- he went to investigate. He had to stretch the leash to its limits to reach the thing, but he made got there. It was a tall box,with solid sides, no holes that he could see. The top opened, parted at his touch. Inside were a few papers, crumpled up and the tops to the drinking bottles. Trash, he decided, as good of place as any, to relieve himself. Using one hand to keep the top open and the other to aim his equipment, Om-2 emptied his bladder with a sigh of relief.

Relieved that his first priority had been satisfied, Om-2 shuffled back to his bed. There was food calling.

 

“You little dickens!” Bobby muttered as he watched the monitor. Just as he had suspected Om-2 was much more active when he thought no one was around. The Omega sat upright almost immediately after Bobby left the room. He paused a moment to consider the IV attached to his arm. Bobby frowned, concerned that he might pull it out and injury himself. But the Om seemed to accept the new attachment to his body. He stood with surprising grace, considering his gravid state and began to explore the room. Bobby's frown deepened to a scowl, noticing the Omega moved with a limp. LaFitte had never finished the full intake exam. And the wash up, they’d done had been quick and pretty perfunctory. Bobby made a mental note to check out the Om’s right leg.

With growing curiosity Bobby watched as the Om dumped the dog toys onto the couch. Did Omegas play with such stuff?, he wondered. Apparently not, as the Om move away to continue his exploration. He seemed to be searching for something, Bobby thought. He moved steadily toward the door. Was he going to try to escape? No, he didn’t even try the door to see if it was locked. Rather he seemed to be fascinated by the wastecan, checking it out closely.

Bobby’s eyebrows shot upward when the little Omega parted the blanket shrouding his body and did his business in the trash can. Well, he had no one to blame but himself, Bobby thought ruefully. He should have known a pregnant critter would need to empty its bladder regularly. He couldn’t help but smile at the unmistakeable look of relief and pleasure on Om-2’s face. He should be pleased with himself, Bobby decided. The Omega had shown resourcefulness and problem solving skills that were supposedly beyond his species’ capabilities. Maybe Omegas weren’t such simple creatures, after all, Bobby concluded, as he watched Om-2 divide the new helping of food and take a bite with obvious gusto. 


	7. Chapter 7

Sam held the door open for Jessica as they left the surgical suite. Both were tired. Neither was satisfied with the outcome of their efforts. 

“Thank you.” Sam offered simply as he took Jess’ hand and raised it to his lips.

The Vet sighed, as she smiled wearily. “I just hope we don’t regret this decision later. I still think it would have been more merciful to let it slip away.” She rubbed at the tension at the back of her neck. Sam’s big hand rose to replace hers, kneading the tight muscles with his gentle strength. She rolled her head from side to side, savoring the relief as she added. “Just a bit more anesthesia would have done the deed quickly, painlessly.”

“He” Sam emphasized the pronoun, “Deserves a chance. He’s hung through all the pain and abuse. All the loss. He deserves a chance at a better life, Jess.”

It was the same passionate argument that Sam had used to sway her during the surgery.

“A chance, Sam? What good is an Omega without a uterus? Who will ever want it? What purpose will it have in this world?”

“Come on, Jess. Every day you neuter and spay dogs and cats. Does the fact they can’t reproduce make them any less lovable. Any less worthy of life or care. Any less of a companion. An Omega is more than a womb to borrow.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Jessica conceded without enthusiasm. “I suppose with its ovaries intact, it will still be responsive and capable of satisfying an owner. Of course that’s if it survives.” She cautioned. “The next 24 hours will be critical.”

“He’ll survive.” Sam countered with confidence. “He’s a fighter. A lesser being would have given up in that cellar.”

“You and your Omega fixation. I hope you’re right, Winchester.” She drilled a playful finger into his chest. “Otherwise we’ve wasted a beautiful Sunday morning.” Jess smiled wickedly as she stepped in for a kiss. “I can think of a much better way to spend our day off.”

“I’m right,” Sam stated, drawing her in to deepen their kiss. He nipped her lower lip. “You’ll see. You won’t regret saving him. And I'll make it up to you.” He promised as his lips journeyed along her jaw to nuzzle her ear.

“Ahem! Sorry to interrupt!” Charlie broke in, not the least bit perturbed, or really sorry. “Got some business to discuss, Boss, if I can have your attention for a moment.” She gave the handsome couple her best pixie grin as she consulted the purple clipboard that she held. “We’ve had a busy morning.” She huffed in understatement. “The rescue brought in 67 weaned puppies, 18 bitches with litters with a total of 72 puppies among them and another 15 bitches in varying stages of gestation. Plus seven studs. And two Omegas. That’s a total of 114 rescued!” Charlie announced with pride. “Not a bad day’s work!”

“Oh my god,” Jessica gasped, shocked at the numbers. “What are we going to do with all of them? We can’t possibly house that many animals! It will bankrupt the clinic.” She turned to confront Sam, her brows knitted in consternation. “And some, probably most, of them are bound to be sick. The expense—“

Charlie consulted her clipboard again. “We’re screening for heart worm, distemper and parvovirus. It’s better than you’d expect. We must have got lucky cuz I doubt these animals were up to date on vaccinations. The puppies are clear. Five of the bitches tested positive for heart worm. Four more have distemper plus one stud.” The redhead drew a deep breath and continued. “Mange and dermatitis are the biggest health issue. We’re about two thirds of the way through fleabaths and grooming. All hands on deck, working hard.” She smiled at the pair, arching an eyebrow at their recent love play.

Sam had the grace to duck his head as a blush stole over his features. Jessica pursued more practical matters. “Where will we put all of them?”

"Like I said, we've been busy. Sheriff Mills pulled some strings. Talked to Judge Campbell, showed him Jo's video of the conditions you found. He terminated Crowley’s ownership of all animals seized in the raid. If we post a $1000 good faith bond, we can immediately,” She looked at her notes to get the proper wording, “Distribute, dispense or dispose of said animals in a humane manner as a licensed veterinarian deems fit.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Jessica demanded, not at all placated. This clinic was not only her job, her career, it was the major investment of her money. Bankruptcy was not an attractive proposition even if it was for a good cause.

Charlie drew in a deep breath to answer her concerns. “Take it easy, Boss. I’ve alerted the Rescue Network. Eleven centers are sending teams. With your permission, each has agreed to take three pregnant bitches and/or bitches with their litters. That takes care of the bitches. The weaned puppies and the studs can be divvied up by lottery. If I dust off my salesemenship skills, we should be mostly back to normal within 48 hours.” She shrugged an apology. “It will takes some of the teams a while to get across the state. But I promise you, help is on the way.”

“You make it sound so easy, Charlie.” Jess persisted, not convinced. “Too easy. What if they don’t want these dogs? What if there are more health issues.”

“Come on, Boss. Have a little faith in me! We have some very adoptable breeds here— Shellie, Shitzu, Yorkie, Poodle and Bichon. Plus some crossbreds. Designer dogs are all the rage now! And they are all cleaning up super cute and cuddly. A little time and TLC and they’ll be snatched up for adoption just like that.” She snapped her fingers to demonstrate her point. “No problem at all.”

“ I shouldn’t doubt you.” Jess conceded begrudgingly. “As usual you seem to have it all in hand. I don’t know how we could ever manage without you. I swear, I could kiss you.”

“Kisses are welcome. As always. Hugs, too. Raises are especially appreciated.” She added with a quick laugh that just as quickly turned serious. “ But I was wondering... what’s the status on Omega One?”

“Guarded.” Jessica answered tersely, with a scowl.

“He survived the surgery.” Sam elaborated, determined to be optimistic. “Ellen is monitoring him in post-op. He’s a fighter. He’ll pull through.”

“That’s great!” Charlie’s enthusiasm bounced back. “I’ve got a bed set up for him in the adoption room with Om-2 whenever he’s ready to be transferred. I was wondering, should I go ahead and list them on the Omega Registry? It’s a long shot, I know, that someone might be searching for one of them. We have DNA samples and Dr. Bennie says Om-2 has some identifying markings. So I thought...”

“it’s too early for that.” Jess put the brakes on her initiative. “Let’s see how they respond to treatment. It would be cruel to raise a family’s hope, if one or the other doesn’t survive.”

“Jess. It would still be closure for their families even if the worse happens.” Sam tried to reason. “So many families never know what happens to their Omegas after they hit puberty. The whole system is barbaric.”

“I know. I know.” Jessica responded tiredly. It was a discussion that they’d had before, repeatedly. She understood why it was a sensitive issue for Sam but he needed to see the greater good. “You’ve seen the statistics, Sam, the probability of interbreeding and all the inherent health issues soar if an Omega remains in a family past the onset of puberty. Redistribution-“

“Call it what it is,” Sam broke in heatedly. “Government sanctioned sexual slavery. Kids torn from their families, auctioned off to raped by strangers, bred non-stop -‘

“Oh, Sam, don’t be so melodramatic. Most Oms end up perfectly happy, well cared for, even doted on by their new families.”

“Bullshit! That’s the company line and you’ve bought it hook, line and sinker! Have you ever asked an Omega how they feel about this system?”

Sam, you know as well as I do, that at best, an Om’s intelligence is the equivalent of a dog. No long term memory, limited short term memory. Most are completely nonverbal.”

“If you had a shock collar locked around your throat you’d soon learn to keep quiet too!”

“Oh, Sam, I’m too tired and hungry to debate this yet again. Alright Charlie, put them on the registry. But I want to know if a match is made before the family is notified. Now I need to write up post-op instructions, then I’m for some food.” Jess said, moving toward her office. “Maybe we could splurge on pizza. How’s the petty cash fund look?”

“Severely depleted.” Charlie answered with a guilty grimace. “It started the ball rolling on the good faith bond. but I can spare $10.”

“I’ve got a twenty burning a hole in my pocket.” Sam volunteered.

“I need to check my purse but I should have a twenty I can spare. See if Benny can ante up another sawbuck or two.”

“I’ll get it out of him.” Charlie promised. “And I know a friendly pizza parlor that can be sweet talked into a two for one deal. Who wants anchovies?”

Sam rolled his eyes, and shook his head with a grin. “Promise me, Charlie, at least one veggie special.”

“Oh sure, Sam. Mushrooms, peppers, onions and artichokes will that do?”


	8. Chapter 8

”Last one.” Missouri stated with satisfaction, as she took the soaking wet puppy from Bobby and wrapped it in a towel.

Bobby eased himself upright, equally glad to be done with his self appointed job as head shampooer. His back was telling him he wasn’t as young as he used to be. Stretching his arms toward the ceiling, he arched his aching back. Oh, that felt good. Missouri, busy toweling off the pup, smiled with understanding as she heard him groan as his back cracked. Bobby followed up the stretch with a forward fold, crossing his arms and letting his upper body just hang there limp for three deep breaths. That was about all he remembered from Sam’s repeated efforts to teach him the wonders of yoga. Carefully, Bobby rolled up to his full height. Damn, Bobby thought, stretching this way and that way, he’d never admit it to Sam but that yoga crap did help.

Bobby made a quick check of his Timex. His eyebrows shot up in dismay when he realized how late it was. Karen would skin him alive if he missed the family dinner. He shook out his weary arms. They’d done a good day's work cleaning up the rescues. Most were well on their way to a better life, he thought with satisfaction. Bobby glanced at his watch again. If he hustled, he should have time to do a final check on Om-2, before he headed home. And he might have another go at talking Sam into coming for dinner. He should have asked Karen what she was making, he thought belatedly, that boy never passed on her pot roast.

”Are you good here, Miz? Karen is expecting me home for supper. We’ve got a new trio of younguns. And she’s been coping all day alone.” Bobby admitted a bit guiltily.

”Oh, I got this.” The older woman answered, cuddling the squirming dog close. “Get your tired backside home where it belongs.”

Bobby flashed a rare smile of gratitude as he rolled his strained shoulders back and set off.

He left the intake room, bypassing the kennels. Through the small window in its door, he noted absentmindedly that the lighting was already dimmed in there. From the lack of barking, Bobby assumed that the remaining rescues had settled in for a good sleep, soothed by a bath, a good meal and fresh bedding. Looking for Sam, he paused at the doorway to the break room. A stack of empty pizza boxes were piled on the floor beside the trash can. Jo and Ash, the only volunteers in evidence, were crashed, heads pillowed on forearms crossed on the table littered by soda cans. Bobby shook his head in wonder at the sight. Ash was still holding onto a slice of pepperoni pizza while he was out cold. Bobby briefly debated whether he should wake the pair and tell them to go home. Both likely had school tomorrow. After a moment of hesitation, he decided to leave them be. They were young and probably wouldn’t appreciate his meddling. And he didn’t need any of their sass. He snorted in derision, thinking that he was likely to get plenty of that once he got home. Lord, three new fosters, what were he and Karen thinking of. They were getting too old for this, he thought as he rubbed tiredly at the back of his neck. At least he was getting too old for this ‘saving the world’ shit.

Bobby rounded the corner. The reception area and the adjacent adoption/Omega room were just a short way down the hall. As he approached the room, the opposite door to the treatment/surgical wing swung open. Ellen started through the doorway, guiding the front end of a gurney. All thoughts of his fatigue evaporated as Bobby rushed forward to help.

Ellen smiled wearily at him as he held the door for her. “Thanks, Bobby. I didn’t know anyone else was still awake around here but Sam and me.”

Sam frowned at him as he pushed the tail end of the gurney past. “Shouldn’t you be out of here? Karen will be pissed if she has to hold supper for you.”

“Hey, who’s the grownup here!” Bobby protested as he let the door swing shut after them. “I’m out of here in just a minute. Wanted to do one more check on Om-2 before I left. How’s this fella doing? Looks a good deal better than when we found him.”

“Just cleaning him off made him look a whole lot better.” Ellen scoffed.

“He’s not out of the woods yet.” Sam added. “Still running a fever around 101. But that's down a couple of degrees. I thought we would bed him down with Om-2. Hopefully if they’re together he won’t be as frightened when he comes around.”

Bobby nodded in agreement. Leave it to Sam to think of things like that. He was a good kid. A good man, Bobby corrected himself, stepping around the tall Alpha as he moved to open the Dutch door to the adoption room.

They moved the gurney carefully into the small room. “Help me out here, Bobby.” Sam directed as he prepared to transfer the unconscious Omega from the gurney to the cot. “Ellen, keep the lines clear.”

They were an experienced crew. The transfer went smoothly. Ellen, secured the IV and catheter bags before rolling the gurney out. Sam busied himself checking the Om’s vitals while Bobby covered the patient with warm blankets.

“I was hoping you'd change your mind and would come home to supper with me. Then I can blame you for being late.” 

“Sorry, Bobby, as much as I’d like to, I volunteered to keep a watch on him tonight." Sam nodded toward the post-op patient. Ellen is beat and she needs to get Jo and Ash home. Don’t you worry about me, I’ll be fine. I’ll scrounge some supper from the break room. Tell Karen I’m sorry. And that my stomach is really sorry!”

 

Bobby turned into the driveway as the setting sun silhouetted the old farmhouse he and Karen had made their home. The house was still standing at least. From the outside everything looked peaceful. A quick check of his watch, told him he was nearly a half hour late. Hopefully Karen wouldn’t tear him a new one, he thought as he parked his truck next to the back porch. Time to face the music. Or the firing squad.

Bobby dragged his weary body out of the driver's seat. Ain't nothing you haven't done, dozens of times before, he reminded himself as he trudged up the steps. It was just that he wasn't a 'people person' like Karen. Hell, he couldn't even remember their names, he realized with a twinge of panic. Making small talk with strangers, especially troubled kids didn't come naturally for him. He would be spending the next few days or weeks, how ever long these kids were with them, watching his words and his temper. He had to remember to control his movements, too. His size, the fact he was a man, scared lots of kids. A simple gesture, like raising his hand, could make a kid flinch or cry. He hated making kids cry. He hated seeing that fear in their eyes that they thought he might hurt them. He hated knowing that someone, probably someone who should have loved them, had hurt them. Damn it, they were just kids who needed to be loved and cared for. Determination in place, Bobby turned the doorknob and stepped into the warm glow of the kitchen.

Three sets of dark eyes pinned him in the open doorway. They were seated at the kitchen table, Karen with her back to him and the three kids staring at him like he was the devil himself risen from Hell. The littlest one, a girl with a mop head of dark curls, ducked beneath the table but not before Bobby had seen her lips quiver and tears fill her eyes. The oldest, another girl, stiffened her spine and clenched her fists around the silverware. Bobby recognized the signs. She was the guardian, the protector, the child taking care of children, the one who had been forced to grow up too soon because the adults in her life had failed them. And the boy, the middle child, sat frozen, staring in fright, his mouth hanging open and filled with food. Shit, Bobby thought once again, it was going to be a long, uncomfortable night.

Karen rose smoothly, smiling like nothing was wrong as she turned to him. 

"Sorry, I'm late." He mumbled as he closed the door. He hung his current gimme cap on the wall peg.

"No problem." Karen dismissed his tardiness as she stepped up to kiss his cheek. "I figured you might be. I set aside plates for you and Sam." She glanced at the closed door. "He's not with you?"

"Naw. There were a couple of Oms in the rescue. One was in pretty bad shape and needed surgery. You know how he is, Sam volunteered to stay for the night watch."

Karen nodded as she moved to the stove. She pulled open the oven and with a folded towel in hand extracted a covered plate from the interior. "Well, wash up. And sit down. You must be starving. I made one of your favorites tonight. Ham and au gratin potatoes."

"Smells great!" Bobby said honestly as he scrubbed his hands at the kitchen sink, mindful of the three pair of eyes watching his every move. He used the hand towel Karen passed to him to dry off. Side by side, they went to the table and took their usual seats.

“Callie, please pass Bobby the rolls. Drew, pass the butter please.” Karen’s calm voice tried to ease a bit of the tension in the room. "Jenna, sweetie, sit up or you'll slide right off your chair."

Silently Bobby thanked his wife. The woman was a genius or a saint. Maybe both. Just like that she had fed him the kids' names. She knew he wasn't good with names or people and was doing all she could to get them all through the awkwardness. Bobby decided to take his cue from his wife. Pretend everything was normal and just maybe it would be. He dipped his fork into the serving of potatoes and took a big bite. The second it hit his tongue, he realized he'd made a big mistake. The hot cheesy mouthful seared his tongue, bringing instant tears to his eyes. Automatically he dropped his fork and reached for his customary beer-- which wasn't there. Desperate to cool his blistered tongue, he snatched up Karen's iced tea and drained the glass.

Wary eyes followed every move. They waited, knowing what was to come. There was bound to be an explosion of anger. Shouting. Curses. Violence. Pain. The question was whose pain would it be? Would they all suffer or would one serve as the scapegoat. They'd seen it before, felt it, in other foster homes, in their own home. You didn't have to be the cause of the anger to feel its consequences.

"Oh, Bobby, I'm sorry!" Karen exclaimed. "I should have warned you it was hot!" Realizing her error, she rose and hurried to the fridge for a cold beer. Popping the tab as she returned, she placed the can in front of her husband. 

Bobby abandoned the drained glass in favor of the full beer. He took a hefty sip, letting the cold brew soothe his tongue and throat before responding, "Not your fault, Hon. I should've known better. I saw you take it from the oven." He took another swallow of beer. "My own damn fault." He saw Karen frown at his choice of words, caught sight of the kids' wide eyed stares. "Excuse my French." He forced a smile. "Sorry everyone. Don't let me being an idjit, spoil this good meal. Come on, eat up." Bobby set aside his beer and took up his fork again. He filled his fork again, made a show of blowing on the bite to cool it before placing it in his mouth. He chewed appreciatively. He caught the boy's eyes, threw him a wink. The kid's eyes narrowed in confusion or maybe, suspicion, then his lips twitched into a timid smile. The big eyes dropped, too cowed by years of experience to maintain the contact. The boy started shoveling in bites with deliberate speed. Bobby gave him a minute then spoke as gently as he could. "Slow down, kid. The food ain't going nowhere." To demonstrate he sliced off a bit of ham, took the bite, chewing slowly to savor the flavor. "This is real good, Hon. Thank you for making dinner."

Karen beamed at him. "Save room for dessert. Cherry pie. Jenna helped me make it." She nodded toward the youngest child.

"Cherry pie! You ladies are gonna spoil me!" Bobby smiled kindly at the little one. She couldn't be more than five or six years old. Just a tiny thing, all big eyes and curls. He concentrated a moment, knowing she was watching him intently. There, he thought with silent satisfaction as his ears moved back and forth. It didn't seem possible but the little girl's eyes grew even larger and a small giggle escaped her rosebud lips. Score one for the old guy, Bobby thought, very pleased with himself. Then he glanced at the oldest. Her eyes had hardened. And he swore he could hear her teeth grinding from across the table. A silly ear wiggle wasn't winning him any points with that one. She was staring daggers at him.

"We were talking about school when you came in." Karen interrupted their staring contest. "I thought we'd go sign up tomorrow. Jenna should be starting kindergarten. Drew, second grade. And Callie, well, we don't know if she'll place at the middle school in sixth. Or fifth grade at Lincoln."

"Be easiest if everyone was at the same school, on the same schedule." Bobby contributed, seeing the oldest's face pinch of worry. He tried to give her an easy out. Foster kids rarely performed as well as their peers in school. They'd had too many disruptions in their lives and their education. He didn't even want to think of the slew of behavior problems they were likely to have to deal with these three.

"Don't matter." The oldest girl mumbled, looking away to stare out the window. "We ain't gonna be here long. Why even bother with school."

"We bother, " Bobby emphasized the word. "Because school is your job as a kid. It's important. It determines your future."

"My future," the pre-teen tilted her head to sneer at him, "I'll be a crack head whore like our Ma." She sank in upon herself. Thunderclouds and self hatred darkening her face. Damnit, Bobby thought, she's too young to hate the world and herself. And he didn’t want her to spread that poison to the other little ones.

"Don't talk like that. She's still your mother, despite any faults. She deserves your respect just for bringing you into this world." The girl, Callie, looked as surprised as any of them as Bobby defended the woman he had never met and probably never would. “My old man was a ornery son of,” he bite back the expletive in light of his listeners, “Gun. He was more likely to give you the lash of his tongue or the bite of his belt than a smile or a kind word. But he kept a roof over my head and food on the table. More importantly, he taught me what I didn’t want to be as a man. My advice, for what it’s worth, is take responsibility for your own future. Don’t let your folks’ downfalls curse you. Now eat your supper. You’re nothing but skin and bones.” Bobby picked up his own fork and devoted his attention to his own plate. “Besides you wouldn’t wanna disappoint your little sister by missing out on her pie.”

Karen’s heart swelled as she listened to her husband. Bobby rarely spoke of his father and his own difficult childhood. He might claim he didn’t understand these kids but time and again he managed to reach out to them in ways her unconditional love could not. The children were each regarding him with some shades of respect, maybe identifying with someone like themselves.

“How about after dessert, we go up to the store room.” Karen suggested referring to large walk-in closet that she kept stocked with all sizes of kids’ clothes which she had bought at rummage sales and thrift shops. Foster children, especially emergency placements, rarely arrived with more than the clothes on their backs. “You can each pick out some school clothes. We’ll get everything laid out tonight. You can have a bath before bedtime. Or if you rather you can shower in the morning. How does that sound?”

Callie shrugged, a demonstration of indifference but thankfully not obstinacy. Jenna spoke up for the first time. “Can I have bubbles?”

”Sure you can, sweetie!” Karen laughed, happy to be able to provide even a small pleasure. The younger two would be easy, they were obviously starving for love. Callie would be the challenge, she thought as she caught the older girl roll her eyes. Bobby shared a sympathetic smile with his wife. Winning over recalicient teens was Karen’s speciality. It required time and patience, virtues Bobby considered to be in short supply in his constitution. It might be better if he stayed out of the way and let her work her magic.

“Karen, honey, you think you got anything in that stash of yours that would do for a pregnant Omega? And a post-op Om? They didn’t have a stitch of clothes between ‘em. Being covered might be weird for them but it would definitely be warmer. And folks might see them in a better light if they got their junk covered. I could run the clothes and Sam’s supper over to him. If its okay with you, that is.”


	9. Chapter 9

"Gosh, that was good. I'll say it again, Bobby, you shouldn't have gone through the trouble of bringing me back supper." Sam sighed with satisfaction as he sat back from the break room table. "But I'm sure glad you did! Tell Karen that it was great and how much I appreciate the food and her. She's the best!"

"You'll get no argument from me on that subject." Bobby's rough features softened with love for his wife and this fine young man. "Besides I'd seen the state of this here place," he looked around at the shambles of the small staff lunch room. "Ain't enough here to feed a mouse, let alone a moose the size of you." They shared a guffaw. "You know Karen still loves to fuss over you even if you are grown and on your own now." He reached back into the shopping bag his wife had packed and pulled out a box of granola bars, an orange and an apple. "In case you need a snack." He set the food supplies in front of Sam before reaching into the bag again. "I'm tempted to forget to give you this," he pulled out a large square container, "but Karen will expecting suitable appreciation and praise when you bring back the container. You will be sure to return her precious Tupperware!" He cautioned, his eyes narrowing into a scowl. "Don't make me come after the damn thing. Or I'll be coming after you."

Curious, Sam pried back the lid to check the contents. "She sent half a pie!"

"Not quite. We each had a piece, that left three extras. Karen figured you'd burn off the calories better than her or me. Best to remove temptation." Bobby concluded patting his slight paunch, the ongoing battle of a middle aged man.

"That woman is something else!" Sam said, his voice warm with love for the foster mom who had saved him.

"Yeah, she sure is." Bobby agreed, knowing what a lucky man he was to have Karen in his life. "And she sent these for the Oms." He pulled out a bundle of clothes and shrugged. "Just some of my old tees and some sleep pants. They got drawstring ties, best we could come up with on short notice."

"These will do nicely." Sam was touched by the couple's consideration. Most Betas didn't give Omegas a second thought. Unless they wanted to rent a surrogate breeder. "Thanks, Bobby..

Bobby scratched at his beard. "Might help keep Dr. Oh-la-la in check too. You might like that guy but I think his glands rule. I just don’t trust that scruffy Alpha."

"Benny isn’t so bad. He talks big. And he likes to twist your tail."

"Well I don’t like how he was talking. Talking all kinds of shit. Poor kid is nearly ready to pop and his doctor is leering at him like a starving man eyes a juicy steak. It ain’t right. You'd never do that."

"You can’t judge other Alphas by my behavior. Every time I look at an Omega I see my brother. An Omega just isn’t a sex object for me. I’m the weirdo, Bobby, not the other Alphas."

"Well then, I’ll take the weird rather than the average as my friend."

Sam couldn’t help but laugh at Bobby's seriousness. "That's good because you're stuck with me." He clapped the older man on the shoulder. "You are so great for my ego."

"Oh, cut the bull.” Bobby rose from the table, a bit embarrassed by even that manly show of affection. “Hey, as long as I’m here, I’m going to look in on the Oms."

“Before you do that, I want to talk to you about Om-2.” Sam ran a hand through his hair as he let his concerns come forth “Is he okay? Every time I’ve checked on them, he’s been asleep. I know a side effect of pregnancy is fatigue. And he’s probably rundown, most likely anemic. But Benny’s patient notes don’t... Why are you laughing?”

Bobby was shaking his head from side to side, chuckling as he leaned against the door jamb. “My fault. I should have put a note in his file. That little Om is no idiot. I know everyone says Omegas aren’t any smarter than a dumb dog. But I’m telling you that little Om has got some smarts.” Reading the confusion in Sam's eyes, Bobby explained. "He's playing opossum on you. Must have ears like a bat too. Scrambles into to his bed anytime someone approaches. Fakes sleeping. And does a good job of it. If you don't believe me, check the monitor. I left the video recording on an eight hour loop, just in case anyone got too touchy feelly."

Sam nodded in understanding. "That explains a lot. Poor guy. That's probably his only defense against abuse. And obviously it doesn't work all the time."

“What do you say we see how he likes these duds? Wonder when’s the last time he had clothes to cover himself.” Bobby hefted the small bundle and started off to the Omega room with Sam in tow.

 

He heard them coming. He could smell a nearby Alpha, but the footsteps told him there was more than one person approaching the holding pen. The tall, gentle Alpha had been in a couple of times since bringing the Other back to him. Each time the Alpha busied himself tending the Other and left him alone. Now more than one was coming. It was bound to happen, Om-2 thought with resignation. It always did. Sooner or later the Alphas would come to use them. They always came with grabby hands and punishing cocks.

Om-2 looked down at his companion. He stroked the dark head again. Now that it was clean, Om-2 could appreciate how soft and shiny the dark hair was. He wished the Other would open his eyes. Om-2 wondered if those pretty blue eyes would look different now too. He bent down, a difficult task with his whelp swollen belly, and pressed his lips to the damp brow. The Other was still too warm but not burning hot like he had been. The Other stirred feebly but slept on. He was getting better but still weak and hurting.

The footsteps had stopped on the other side of the door. Om-2 straightened his heavy body. He swallowed the dread rising in his chest. The doorknob turned. The door opened slowly. Om-2 stepped between the door and the Other’s cot. Deliberately he let the warm blanket slide off his body as he dug his nails into the gland buried at the nexus of his neck and shoulder. He kept his eyes down, head bowed in submission. He did not want their attention but he was willing to offer himself to spare the Other.

 

Bobby preceded Sam into the small room. He stopped short at the sight that greeted him. The realization hit him smack between the eyes at the same instance that he heard Sam's stifled groan. He didn't need any Alpha/Omega perfume or phera-what's-it. It was there before his own eyes- this was a sexual creature, an inviting wanton creature. It should be impossible. Damnit! The kid was all skin and bones with a beach ball belly. But he was also somehow sexy as hell! Bobby bit into his lower lip as he felt his cock stir. He used the pain to battle down his body's errant urges. God damn it! He was a Beta! And, more importantly, he loved Karen and had no intention of being unfaithful to her.

The pain, physical and emotional, did the trick. He wasn't some hormone driven teenager. Bobby brought his unruly body under control. Suddenly aware of Sam's punishing grip on his shoulder, Bobby cleared his throat to force out the words. "Sam, maybe you want to step out while I handle getting him dressed."

At his back came Sam's near incoherent response. "Yea... Maybe I should... No, I- No, I'm good. I - I got this." Sam grunted, as he fought with his own body's instinctive response. He had trained for situations like this. He was a rational man. A disciplined, trained professional. Not a mindless rutting beast. It was the sudden onslaught of Omega pheromones, he realized belatedly, that had caused his arousal. "Bobby," Sam choked out, "Make him stop.

Stop? Stop what? Bobby wondered, confused and clueless. The Omega was just standing there. He hadn't moved or made a sound. Of course, the frigging collar took care of any sounds. What was he supposed to stop? And how was he supposed to do it? The older man was about to turn and demand some guidance when he noticed the thin trails of blood seeping from beneath the Omega's hand. Damn, he was bleeding. Again. Shit. He was digging his own fingernails into his shoulder, the Beta realized. Why the hell was he doing that? When they had entered the room, Bobby had thought the little Omega's position- right arm raised, covering one tit- was a awkward attempt at modesty. Then as his body reacted, he thought the pose was damn seductive. Now, he didn't know what to think. The Omega hitched in an unsteady breath and tightened his grip even more. The trickles of blood increased. At his back, Sam grated out. "Please, Bobby-- make him-- stop."

With nothing more to go on, Bobby stepped forward. He raised his hand to gently grasp the thin wrist. "No, darling. Don't do that." The Omega didn't struggle as his lifted the offending hand from the wounds. Behind him, Bobby heard what he hoped was a sigh of relief from his young friend.

 

Om-2 swallowed a sob. It wasn't working. His attempt at seduction, his effort to focus their attention on him rather than the Other was failing. Desperate to spare the Other, he drove his nails deeper into his own flesh, squeezing, milking the hidden musk gland, to increase the output of Omega pheromones. It had to work. He could scent a response from the tall Alpha. It was the furry faced Beta that was disrupting his plan. With despair he realized he had no experience with Betas, he didn't know how to appeal to a Beta. What more could he do? He had to protect the Other. He had to...

The furry Beta came nearer, gripped his arm and ordered him to stop. The Beta was gentle but firm. Om-2 was confused. If they hadn't come to fuck him, what did they want? All day one or the other of these two had been come to prep him- cleaning him, tending his hurts, providing food and water. Readying him to serve their desires. If they didn't want to fuck him, what did they want?

For years, for more than half his life he had only been good for one thing—being fucked, forced to take an Alpha's knot. Well maybe two things, if you consider bearing whelps. If they hadn't come to use him sexually, what did they want. How would he serve? Om-2 remembered a past owner, Master Lucifer. He had used him sexually, knotted him frequently but not until he had hurt him. It was the joy of causing pain that aroused Lucifer. Were these men like that? Would they find their pleasure in hurting him?

Tears filled his eyes at that possibility. If that was what they wanted, he would submit. He would do all he could to protect the Other. To protect the whelp he was carrying. Hopefully they would be careful of the baby- the whelp, he corrected himself. A baby was a gift of new life, a promise of the future, a new being to cherish and love. Omegas bore whelps, to be sold for profit. Of the six whelps he had borne, he’d never been allowed to hold one for more than a day.

Accepting to his fate, Om-2 sank to his knees.


	10. Chapter 10

Bobby looked down at the cowering Omega. "Aw, darling, don't be scared." He reached out, intending to help the little guy back to his feet. He pulled up short as he noticed the instinctive flinch, the anticipation of pain. "Easy now, ain't nobody gonna hurt you. Come on now, let's get you up." He reached down again with both hands. He knew that he could easily lift the Om to his feet but, Bobby realized, they needed to work on trust. "Come on, darling. Take my hand. I'll help you up."

Through his tangled mane, Om-2 shot out a cautious look. He considered the hands held out to him. They were large and calloused yet this Beta had not hurt him. He had been gentle. And the tall, shaggy Alpha, Om-2 caught sight of him with his peripheral vision, he was waiting patiently just inside the door. Maybe— maybe these two meant no harm. Om-2 gathered his courage and lifted his hand to meet the Beta's. 

With care, Bobby drew the trembling Omega to his feet. Bobby nodded encouragement, a smile softening his features, deepening the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. "That's it, Darling. Let's get some clothes on you." Bobby shook out the small bundle of clothing that he'd brought.

Om-2 cocked his head, staring at the simple white tee shirt the Beta held out to him. Was this really for him? Some Alphas, a few, had dressed him as a prelude to sex. Then it had been leather or rubber garments. Tight, restrictive straps or laces that bound his body, displayed his availability, and facilitated his use. Now this— this shirt looked soft, comfortable and it would cover his body, even his whelp heavy belly. Daring to believe in the Beta's good intentions, Om-2 took the offered shirt. He fumbled with it, not accustomed to dressing himself. The shirt slipped from his awkward fingers, falling to the floor. Would he be punished for misusing the Beta's generous gift? Before fear could swamp the Omega, the furry faced Beta was bending easily to pick up the fallen garment. With a quickly mumbled, "Let me help," the Beta gathered up the shirt and slipped it over his head. Gentle hands guided his arms into the sleeves, smoothed the fabric down his body. To be covered, concealed felt strangely good. A chill that was a constant in his existence eased. It felt wonderful to be clothed.

"That does the trick!" The Beta said with smug satisfaction. "Let’s see how these fit." The Beta unrolled soft pants. 

Stunned by even more generosity, the Omega's eyes flashed up, daring to see if this offering was real. The Beta went down on one knee, pants scrunched up in his hands to facilitate Om-2 stepping into the garment. “Watch your step, Darling. Lean on me if you need to. There you go.” Bobby rose, drawing the sleep pants up over the Omega’s backside. He pulled the drawstring tight beneath the swell of the belly and tied it off. He tugged the tee back into place. Satisfied, Bobby stepped back. “How’s that feel?”

Om-2 regarded him with wide eyes, hands unconsciously stroking the soft clothing now covering his body. Bobby cursed under his breath. “Damn! I wish he could talk. These damn collars! Be so much easier if he could talk to us.”

“Most Alphas don’t think an Omega has anything worthwhile to say.” Sam offered sadly. “But I think it’s obvious he likes the duds. How about you help me dress Om-1? Help me slip this tee over his head. Yeah, that’s the way. Lift him up just a bit more. Careful. His belly is going to be tender. Let me thread the IV bag through the sleeve first. Okay. Now his arm. There, that’s good. You can ease him back down. We won’t bother with the pants until after the catheter is out.”

Om-2 watched anxiously as the men worked on dressing the Other. They were being gentle. They were. But he did not like that they were touching the Other. He never like when the Other was used or abused. It was better to suffer an Alpha's attention himself than to see them with the Other. It was his self appointed responsibility to spare the Other any pain or discomfort that he could.

Bobby took note of Om-2's hovering presence. He glanced up as he released Om-1 to the support of the mattress. Bobby could read the depth of concern on the pale face, in the shadowed green eyes. "Relax, Darling. We ain’t gonna hurt your buddy. Don’t you think he'll feel better with some clothes on, too?"

"He can’t answer you," Sam put in, "But it's important to remember that they may understand at least some of what we say. Equally important is the tone you speak with. You're very good with him, Bobby."

"Thanks. That's why I didn’t like how Benny was jabbering. I’m gonna make a point of being here tomorrow when the good Doc does his follow up exam."

"Bobby, can you afford the time? You've got Karen and those new fosters, not to mention the garage, your work. This is more than you signed on for." Sam worried. "I don’t want to mess up your life."

"I’m not an idjit, boy. I got my priorities straight. Talked with the missus, we agreed these fellas are important too. I got her stamp of approval to do what I need to to help. And the plus of having your own business, is I make the rules, call the shots. Don’t worry about me, Sam. I’ll make it work. You just ask Charlie to let me know when Benny schedules his checkup, okay?”

“Will do.” Sam promised as he bent down to tuck the blankets back in place. The Omega stirred slightly. “Hey, he might be coming around.” The dark lashes fluttered as the Omega struggled toward awareness. The near translucent eyelids parted to reveal those startling blue, blue eyes. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” Sam hurried to reassure. “Take it easy. Try not to move around too much.” The blue eyes focused on his face. Sam smiled down at the groggy Omega, debating how much he should reveal, conceal. “You had surgery— an operation.” He read confusion in those eyes. Gently he laid his hand over the blanket covered abdomen. “The doctor had to take out what was making you sick. You’re hurting now, I know. I have medicine to help.” Sam smiled, offering confidence and reassurance. “Soon you’ll feel better.’’ 

The blue eyes drooped, struggled to reopen. They looked past Sam to Bobby then searched the space beyond. Sam thought he knew what the injured Om was looking for. He eased back, motioned Bobby to step back as well. The blue eyes scanned the room, found their goal. All the tension seeped out of the prone body.

Om-2 cast an anxious look at the men, then looked back to the Other. He wanted to go to the Other, be with the Other, to take care of the Other— he wanted, he wanted so much, more than he could comprehend. He wanted. Om-2 took a tentative step toward the Other. The men said nothing. They did not object or try to stop him. In fact they stepped further away, making room for him to go to the Other.

Om-2 hurried to the Other’s side. He sank to his knees beside the cot. Without thought one hand came up to stroke the soft dark hair, his other hand closed over one of the Other’s. Their fingers entwined. Om-2 bent down to press his forehead against the Other’s. This moment was the closest to happiness that he could remember in was his existence.


	11. Chapter 11

"For God's sake, Jess. Be reasonable!" Bobby could hear the raised voices clear enough through the closed office door. Emotion, from both parties, had pitched the volume up.

"I am being reasonable." The cool blond retorted. "This is a place of business. My business. I have a job to do. Bills to pay. Salaries to meet. I'm not running a charity, Sam. Have you any idea of the quantity of supplies we ran through yesterday? I do what I can to help the cause because I care, but when it comes down to the bottom line, I have to cover expenses."

"Jeezus," Sam sounded angry, disgusted, desperate. "Less than 24 hours ago, you didn't think he'd survive. Now you're ready to kick him to the curb. I can't believe you can be so cold hearted."

"Sam," She said with a self serving sigh."I'm not trying to be cruel. Or unreasonable. Just practical. I never expected him to survive the surgery, so I could afford to indulge your Omega obsession. Frankly, I saw it was an opportunity to practice my surgical skills. Which apparently are better than even I estimated. Now it's time for you to be reasonable. This clinic can't house two Omegas in a temporary holding cell indefinitely. You have to come up with a plan. If you don't, I have. You've got until the end of the week. If you don't find someone to take them by noon Friday, I'm calling the Omega Authority to come pick them up."

"Jess, that's less than five days! We'll never hear back from the Om registry by then!"

"Sam," There was exasperation in her voice. "We both know that less than 15% of the families are searching for their lost Omegas. And the few who are reunited find it difficult, if not impossible to handle a sexually mature Omega. I've read the reports. So have you." Her voice softened. "I'm saying this because I love you, Sam. You have to give up this pipe dream of being reunited with your big brother. The Dean you remember doesn't exist anymore."

Sam dropped his head, letting his long hair conceal the tears that filled his eyes. Logically he couldn't dispute anything she had said. But logic had nothing to do with family. "I can't, Jess. I can't just forget him. He's my brother! If you knew him you would understand. Dean took care of me after Mom died. Even though he was just a kid himself, he was more of a parent than our dad ever was. He was always there for me. I can’t—" Pain choked off his words. Sam swallowed it down. "He was there for me until they took him away. And even then he was more worried about me than himself. He..."

"Sam, don't do this to yourself. Stop beating yourself up with that memory. With all those memories." She reached up to stroke his hair back from his face. She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "I'm sorry but we both know that that Dean is gone. A sexually mature Omega only cares about one thing, being bred. All the studies show-"

"Screw the studies, the government reports!” Sam’s voice rose again with frustration as he stepped beyond her reach. “Independent studies question whether that is a conditioned response or an innate trait. P.E.T.O. believes Omegas can live a good, productive life beyond being a breeder.”

“Doing what, Sam? How would an Omega support himself? Selling himself on the street corner? Is that how he’ll pay the bills? Who’s going to make all the day to day decisions? How—“

“Stop it, Jess. That’s enough!” Sam broke in. “I don’t have all the answers but the Oms won’t be your problem by Friday. I promise you that.”

The door opened suddenly. Sam stormed out, nearly bowling over the eavesdropping Bobby. 

 

Bobby’s ears turned pink and his eyes went wide with shame at being caught listening to the couple’s closed door argument. He hadn’t intended to eavesdrop but that’s what he had been doing. There was no denying his misdeed. He hurried after Sam intending to apologize.

“Sam, I’m sorry. I couldn’t help but overhear—“

“I don’t want to talk about it, Bobby. Just drop it, ok?” Sam shook his head, smoothed back his hair. Bobby had enough experience with the boy, the man that he could see the walls going up. Sam’s life hadn’t been easy but the kid made a point of not crying about it to the world. In fact, he was a damn tough nut to crack. Best to let it ride, Bobby decided, until his temper cooled and they’d both had a chance to think. Maybe then he would have some words of wisdom to offer the idjit.

Sam was talking as he strode away from Jessica’s office toward the Omegas’ room. “Glad you got here in time. Benny has scheduled the ultrasound first thing, before the regular patients start coming in. I've fed them breakfast. I’m keeping Om-1 on the usual restricted post surgery diet but I've cleared Om-2 for high calorie feedings. His appetite is good and he needs the extra nutrients to put weight on the baby and himself. He’ll have to be monitored closely, at least for a few days. He seems to want to share his rations with Om-1. I tried explaining about the surgery and the need for a light diet but, well, I suppose that’s beyond his ability to understand.” He ran a hand through his hair again, battling down his frustrations with just a touch of sarcasm.

“Wouldn’t surprise me, if he understood you.” Bobby commented. “Like I said that little one’s got some smarts. Maybe they both do.” Bobby shrugged, his experience with Omegas was limited but in general, he was a good judge of folks.

“Yeah, maybe.” Sam agreed, not really paying much attention to what Bobby had said. “Listen, you aren’t going to like this but Benny wants Om-2 to have a full bladder for the ultrasound.” Sam took a deep breath and confessed. “So I had to put in a sound. He didn't fight me but I'm pretty sure that ruined my good guy image. I know it's a lot to ask but it might be easier on him if you take it out. I don’t think he trusts me a hell of a lot right now.”

Bobby winced. He couldn’t blame the Om for being wary of any Alpha. And just thinking about having a metal rod shoved up his peter made Bobby want to clutch his own crotch. He couldn’t imagine how much something like that had to hurt. The thought of taking the tool out, made Bobby a bit queasy but he’d be damned if he’d admit that to Sam. He was a grown man. He’d do what had to be done. “Yeah, sure, I’ll do it.”

“Good. Thanks. I’m sure he’ll cooperate. No doubt he’ll be relieved to get it out. I should warn you he’ll need to piss right away. Won’t have much, if any control, so you might want to be positioned at the toilet.” Sam wasn’t feeling any too comfortable with the direction their conversation- or his earlier one with Jess- had gone. Right now he'd give just about anything to be a plain, ordinary college student, worrying about asking a pretty girl for a date, saving enough money for a concert ticket or writing that term paper. Shit! Sam checked his watch. Double shit! “Listen, Bobby, if you’re good with things here, I’ve got a class in a little more than an hour. If I leave now I can grab a shower and a change of clothes beforehand.”

“Go. I got this.”

 

Bobby let himself into the adoption room. He stopped just inside the door as two sets of eyes flashed up to check him out then dropped just as quickly to hide behind long matted tresses. The staff had cleaned both of the Omegas up considerably during intake but the finer details had been left for the luxury of more time. He considered the bent heads concealed beneath the tangled natural dreadlocks. Om-2 had pretty eyes. They both did. Would folks treat the Omegas better if they looked more normal, more- for lack of a better description- more civilized? Or would exposing their pretty faces bring them unwelcome attention? Bobby looked hard at the pair. They were positioned much as they'd found them in that underground cellar. Om-2 held Om-1 in his arms, supported him as the recovering patient sipped Pediasure from the bottle. The fact both were more or less clothed now, helped subdue their innate sexuality. The better they looked, Bobby reasoned, the better people were likely to treat them. At least that was his theory. It couldn't hurt to try. Could it?

"Be right back." Bobby mumbled as he slipped back out the door. He hurried to the grooming station and gathered some tools. He wasn't a barber or some fancy ass stylist but he could manage a buzz, maybe even a bowl cut, he figured. He would start with Om-2, he decided as he strode back to the adoption room. He had at least thirty minutes before Doc Croc was scheduled to check the kid. Bobby intended to put that time to good use.

 

Om-2 steeled himself not to flinch or cringe as the furry faced Beta approached. The man, Bobby--he had heard the tall Alpha call him-- had been kind and considerate in bringing them clothes. He had not hurt him. He had brought food and water. Om-2 stroked down the Other's clad shoulder, his fingers tapped lightly against the bony chest. Just a quick message, in their rudimentary code. [Friend. No hurt. Rest.]

The Other's head moved weakly where it rested against his body. A nod of understanding. That was good. Gently Om-2 eased the other down onto the cot. He eyed the instruments the Beta held. He hoped he had judged the man correctly, but if he was wrong, he hoped to spare the Other. Om-2 stood up and willingly stepped forward when the Beta summoned him. The man guided him to sit in a chair. He draped a towel around his shoulders. Om-2 looked to the Other and read confusion to match his own in the bright blue eyes. The Beta's big hands stroked his hair, fumbled with the matted mass.

"Hold still." The gruff voice ordered as the swish/snip of scissors sounded close to his ear. A clump of dark blond hair fell to the floor. A second swish produced another. Then another and another. The Beta, Bobby, Om-2 reminded himself, worked fast. Soon the floor was littered with clumps of matted hair. Bobby set the scissor aside. It felt strange to Om-2 not to have the weight, the warm mass of his hair to protect his head, to hide his face. But it also felt good to be free of the tangled mess, to feel air against his neck and his face. And it would, he realized with satisfaction, be one less handhold for the Alphas who would use him. A buzzing near his ear startled him into flinching. "Hold still." Bobby reminded him in a kind voice. "I ain't gonna hurt you."

The buzz circled his head with little tugs on what remained of his hair. Om-2 did his best to cooperate with the Beta, holding his head upright, tipping his head this way or that as the man guided it. There was no pain. But he was relieved when the irritating noise stopped and the Beta stepped back.

"There! That ain't half bad. How's that feel?" Not waiting for an answer the Omega could not give, Bobby directed Om-2 attention to the mirrored observation wall. Om-2 found himself staring at a being he did not recognize as himself. In the background the Other looked on with equally wide eyes.

***********************************************************************

Benny LaFitte, transplanted Cajun, veterinary extraordinaire was looking forward to starting his day very pleasantly. As a Vet, examining a recovering patient was always satisfying. Supervising a pregnancy was also fulfilling work. And of course, as an Alpha having an Omega patient was always stimulating. Benny lifted the patient chart from the peg outside the exam room with a grin of anticipation.

The smile faded to a frown when he opened the door. "Bon ami Bobby, what have you done! I am happy to see that pretty face but you are hiding the best parts of this little one!" Benny tsk, tsked at Bobby’s scowl. "You Betas take all the fun out of life. I suppose if you see a beautiful animal, you have no desire to touch it, to own it." He huffed in exasperation. "You do not understand when an Alpha is with a pretty Omega such as this, they call to us with their scent. It compells us to respond." 

"Bull shit!" Bobby barked out. "You ain’t an animal. You got a brain. Use it. You can control your hard-on as well as your mouth, just like Sam does."

"Ah, I see, I must live up to the questionable standard of young Winchester." Benny shook his head as he pulled on a pair of surgical gloves. "An Alpha who has never experienced the pleasure of knotting an Omega. An Alpha denying his own sexuality. An Alpha so damaged in childhood, he has never developed to his full capacity."

"Balls! You are one twisted son of a bitch! Don't you go making out that Sam is a lesser man because he has the morals to say 'no' to his hormones." Bobby seethed through gritted teeth. "Now shut your frigging pie hole and get on with your job." His eyes narrowed into steely daggers. "And remember, I'll be watching you. So behave yourself. You hear me?"

Benny held the cold stare for a moment. He could take the old blowhard if he wanted to. He was an Alpha in his prime. A middle aged Beta wouldn't stand a chance against his strength. But, Benny forced a slow deep breath in and out, there were other matters to be considered. He was new to this position, this community. Establishing himself, earning the staff's respect and loyalty would not be served by bringing down a respected member. And there were more effective ways to get what he wanted. It was just a matter of time...if he spoke to Jessica... This little one could be his. The Omega had cleaned up nicely. That mouth, those eyes were quite appealing. The body was young and fertile. It would be well worth the wait, Benny assured himself.

"Very well." Benny conceded, with an exaggerated sigh. "To the business at hand. Bring the little one here." He indicated the steel exam table. "I'll check his back first. You must remove that tent you have draped over him."

"Come on, Darling." With firm, but gentle hands Bobby guided Om-2 forward. He stopped him beside the table to spread a couple of towels over the cold, hard surface before helping the pregnant Omega up, seated, facing himself, onto the table. Bobby reached around to gather the soft fabric in his hands. He lifted the shirt up to reveal the bandaged back. The Omega offered no resistance. He seemed to shrink in upon himself, curling protectively around his heavy belly. Bobby rested both hands on the slim shoulders, holding the baggy tee shirt up, out of the way. 

"That's enough for you check his back. It's too chilly in here for him to be naked." Bobby added defensively.

"Mon Dieu!" Benny cursed softly, "You are neither his doctor or his mother." He growled, more annoyed than he wanted to let on to this self righteous Beta. "Let's do this. Keep him still while I removed the dressing." Benny worked quickly, peeling back the layers of gauze to expose the wounds. Experienced eyes and careful touches gauged the healing. "Much better." He pronounced, pleased with the efficacy of his own work. He probed the abcess. "No drainage. No inflammation. Very good." The Vet used sterile wipes to clean the wounds then spread a new layer of antibiotic ointment and reapplied a clean dressing. "A few more days and he will be as good as new."

"Except for the scars." Bobby added sourly.

"Many believe scars add to an Omega's beauty, mon ami."

"You are a sick bastard!" Bobby gritted his teeth again, to stop himself from saying more. He could feel Om-2 trembling beneath his hands. "Easy, Darling, ain’t nobody gonna hurt you." He promised as he eased the tee shirt down, eyes fixed on the Vet. "I'll see to that."

Benny didn’t bother to hide his annoyance now. "Can we get on with the business at hand?" He tipped his head toward the pregnant belly. "I don’t have all day to waste playing games with you. Get those ridiculous pants off him."

"Before you get to groping him, I want you to take a look at his right leg." At the Vet's contrary look, Bobby explained, "He's limping."

"Very well." LaFitte conceded sullenly. He reached down, skimming skilled hands over the clothed limb in question. "Some curvature of the lower limbs. Likely caused by calcium deficiency during adolescence. No real cause for concern. No need to correct bowed legs, many find it an endearing trait." He reached the knee, flexed the joint. "Full range of motion." He moved on over the lower leg to the ankle. "Hmm. What's this?"

Benny bent the Omega's right leg, tugging the wide pant leg up as he positioned the right ankle crossed over the left knee. "Here's the cause of his limp." The Vet fingered a thick horizontal scar across the back of the bony ankle. "He's been hobbled."

"Hobbled?" Bobby questioned. He didn't like the sound of that. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means our little om here was a bad boy when he was younger." Benny seized the downward tilted chin, forced the bent head up until he was looking directly into those beautiful green eyes. "A runaway, eh? Naughty. Naughty. His Alpha cut the Achilles' tendon- not completely, he didn't want to crippled the Om- but just enough to slow him down and keep him in his place."

"You're telling me because he tried to get away from daily rapings, because he complained about being abused," Color was rising in Bobby's face but his words were hard and deadly. "You're telling me his almighty Alpha maimed him, cinched a collar 'round his throat to shut him up, beat him bloody, bred him, stole his babies and you are okay with that shit!"

Benny gave a eloquent shrug. "Each being must live up to its innate potential. An Omega was made to serve his Alpha. It is not for me to judge if one of my brothers must take a firm hand to his om."

"You are a doctor! His doctor! Where's your compassion, man? You're supposed ease suffering and cure sickness. Is that all just a load of crap to you?"


	12. Chapter 12

Om-2 kept his head down, his eyes fixed on the floor. They were arguing again. The Alpha with the rolling voice and this strange Beta. Again the Beta was baiting the Alpha about using him. The Beta- Bobby, Om-2 reminded himself- kept repeating his promise that no one would hurt him, that he would protect him. Didn't he know that that was impossible? If this Alpha wanted him, he would take him. If the Beta tried to stop him the Alpha could rip out the Beta's jugular without a second thought. 

And the Alpha did want him. Om-2 could scent his interest. It was only a matter of time before the Alpha took what he wanted. Alphas always did. That was how Alphas lived. That was why Omegas existed, to serve the needs of Alphas. Omegas existed at the whim of Alphas. He had learned that lesson long ago. Didn’t the Beta- Bobby know that?

Om-2 had a dim memory of another Beta who had once challenged an Alpha's claim to him. It might have been the first Alpha who had knotted him, he thought. Maybe. He was pretty sure it had been the first. It had been many years and many Alphas ago. Usually he tried not to remember the past, the before times. It hurt too much to remember the before times. It was better to concentrate on the now, the necessary to endure. That was how Omegas lived. That was how Omegas survived.

But memories, some memories haunted him. Om-2 sunk lower, bent tighter around his swollen belly while the angry words swirled around him. The memories were returning, growing stronger. That other Beta had been older, skinny, scruffy. Words had been shouted. The memory made him tremble beneath Bobby's hands.

The Alpha had called that shouting Beta, Preacher, because he ranted on and on about right and wrong, about mercy. Repentance and damnation. The Alpha had laughed with his friends, mocking the old man. 'I'm only fulfilling God's will, old man. This is his plan. Go forth and multiply! Right, preacher man? That's what God expects us to do. I am an Alpha. I am the Master doing God's work.' And to prove his point the Alpha had mounted him there and then before the old man's horrified eyes. It had been his first penetration. His first knotting. It had hurt. The pain had been so bad. So bad.

But the physical pain had been compounded by the look of disgust on the Beta's face as he watched the Alpha claim him, then share him with his friends. They had used him. Fucked him. Filled his channel, his mouth, his belly with their seed. They had planted the first baby that he had borne. When it was over, when he finally got a chance to rest, to look around the Preacher was gone. Om-2 figured that he had left sometime during the fucking, too disgusted by what he was to bother with the likes of him anymore. He had been left to this life of damnation.

Tears rolled down Om-2’s cheeks as the memory played over and over in his mind. 

 

"You're hurting him!" Bobby protested, seeing the slow flow of tears.

Benny shook his head, dismissing the old fart's complaint. He probed the scar again just to be contrary, flexed the hobbled ankle. "The cut is completely healed. It ain’t causing our little friend here any pain. And to answer your next question, there's no point trying to repair the damage. He functions just fine this way. No serious impairment. Corrective surgery would be expensive and most likely, of limited success." The Vet eyed the interfering Beta coldly, "Now can we get on with the business at hand?"

Bobby was sorely tempted to smack the smugness off the Cajun's ugly puss. It would feel real good to work off some of his outrage and frustration with his fists. But he doubted that Karen or Sam would approve of that method of attitude adjustments. Not at all happy with the situation, Bobby held his temper and shrugged his consent.

The left side of Benny's mouth curled up into a smirk. He would show this Beta. "Present." He snapped out the command.

With surprising alacrity, Om-2 slipped from Bobby's protective grasp. The gravid body seemed to flow off the examination table, bending, turning in one fluid motion to position itself, draped over the table, feet wide spread, pants puddled at the ankles, ass facing the Alpha.

Benny's smirk grew to an appreciative grin. At least, the Om knew his place. And he seemed to be well trained. Benny pulled in a deep breath, savoring the automatic increase of pheromones clouding the small exam room. His shaft twitched in his pants, eager as ever. It would be so easy, so good to claim the little one. Alpha to Omega, as nature intended it to be. Benny stepped closer. The offered ass was beautiful, milky white globes etched with fine lines of scarring- just enough to enhance the vulnerability, not so much as to distort the perfection. He noted the brands on each cheek, three on the right, two on the left—breeder’s marks to record male and female whelps. The small circular brands were evidence of the Omega’s fertility and value. The well defined cleft with harbored the rosy glory hole which was slightly unfurled and already moist with secreted lubricant. Ahh, well trained and responsive. Benny inhaled another lungful of arousal, his shaft rising eagerly. So beautiful, fertile and available....

A broad hand planted itself firmly, very firmly against his breastbone to break his fascination. "I'm watching you, boy-o." The gravelly voice warned again. "Keep your zipper up and your knot under control or you'll answer to me." Bobby repeated his threat. "Don’t make me hurt you, boy."

Benny nearly laughed in his face. This irritating Beta had no idea how easy it would be for an Alpha to snap his neck. Maybe too easy. And unfortunately Bobby was right, he was a civilized being and a professional. Benny forced down his arousal. Right now he had work to do, an examination to finish. There would be time and opportunities for other matters. Later.

Dipping two fingers into the lube, Benny coated the ultrasound wand. Although the Omega had whelped previously, it was likely that he never had an ultrasound. Most Alphas considered carrying and whelping to be a natural process that didn’t require a vet’s assistance or interference. And most veterinaries were okay with that. Dealing with Alphas, treating Omegas was touchy business. It was easier and more profitable to specialize in a small animal practice. People were willing to pay big bucks for the care of their pets.

There was scarring around the orifice, Benny noted. Typical for an experienced bearer. Nothing major but it could impede the delivery. Ruptures, tears, bleeding were a definite possibility. Benny rimmed the omega channel, spreading the lubricant as he coaxed the orifice to relax, to open. With care he inserted the wand, working it gradually to the full depth. He would get the best image with the end snugged up to the cervix.

“Hold steady.” Benny ordered the Omega as he activated the ultrasound machine. “Don’t move.”

 

Om-2 tried not to flinch as the machinery beside him hummed to life. He didn’t like machines. Machines caused pain, especially when an Alpha had something shoved up his hole. But the Bobby hasn’t arguing with the Alpha now. Om-2 chanced a glance at the hovering Beta. The big man was stroking his back in a soothing manner but his attention was focused on the machine. Om-2 followed his gaze. 

There was a screen on the machine, kind of like a television. It showed a blurry black and white picture. Om-2 frowned in confusion. Alphas usually had good quality toys to entertain themselves. He couldn’t imagine an Alpha being pleased with this. He started. The picture shifted, changed at the same time the Alpha adjusted, rotated the thing up his hole.

“Keep still.”

“It’s okay.” The Beta soothed, both hands stroking his shoulders.

The picture changed constantly, a shifting of black and white fuzzy shapes. “Almost.” The Alpha murmured, absorbed in watching the screen as he manipulated the internal scanner. “Just a little more. There. No. Yeah, now there. I’ve got it!”

The image coalesced. A triangle of black outlining a bubble enclosing two distinct forms. Those forms moved just as the baby within his belly shifted position.

"Just like I thought!" Benny announced triumphantly, "We got a bonus! Two for the price of one! Twin whelps in the works!"


	13. Chapter 13

Om-2 stared at the small screen in wonder: His baby- his two babies. He could see his babies! This was new, the first time he had ever seen his babies while they were still in his belly! His heart swelled with love. His thoughts overladen with awe. He could see, actually see the foremost baby sucking his thumb. Its legs were crossed and pulled up to its tummy. The second baby mirrored the first. They were beautiful, perfect in every way. As he knew all babies had been.

Om-2 winced as the Alpha pushed the probe deeper, pressing the wand hard against his cervix. Next the Alpha put his big hand flat on his belly, pushing against his babies. The babies moved, turned, facing each other now. Arms embracing each other. Om-2 watched the image on the screen shift, thinking sadly that even his unborn babies had to obey the Alpha.

 

"There!" Benny said with satisfaction. "Twin A is a male. And I see only one amniotic sac. Looks like we've got monozygotic twins. So B, who is being a bit shy, should be a male, too." Benny rotated the imaging wand, working it deeper as he appled pressure to the distended abdomen. The whelps dutifully shifted, exposing more of the second fetus. "Yup, two males. Identical twins. Well, I'll be. Maybe that will take the bee out of Jessica's bonnet." He speculated. "Male newborns fetch a hefty price. And identical twins are a rarity. We can turn a sweet profit selling off these two. With any luck there'll be a bidding to-do. We should make it high bidder takes choice. We should at least recoup our expenses on this rescue, maybe even make a bit extra if we work it right. That should return the sunshine to Miss Jessie's smile."

"You're going to auction off his babies?" Bobby asked, his voice deep and doubtful, a scowl on his face.

"What else? The Om can't keep 'em.” Benny shrugged off Bobby’s disapproval. “He'll be in heat again soon enough. And then have another whelp rounding his belly. And who’s going to want an Omega with a passel of whelps hanging from its titties? Besides Omegas don't have the sense to raise a youngun?"

"I don't know. Just don’t seem right."

Without warning, Benny pulled the wand out of the Omega's channel. He skimmed a fingertip over the breeder's brands to emphasize his point. "That's how it's done. You don't expect a milk cow to raise up its calves, do you?"

"Don't they miss their babies?"

Benny shook his head slowly, wondering at the ignorance of the Beta. "You sentimental fool. Omegas don't have the brain power to remember anything long term. Oh, he might pine for a day or two. Then he'll forget these two ever existed once his heat hits him." Benny busied himself wiping off the imaging wand. He would need to sterilize it to be ready for its next use. "Out of sight, out of mind." He added absent mindedly, chuckling more to himself than Bobby. "What little mind they got, that is."

 

Reality crashed down on Om-2. They were going to steal his babies. Just like the times before. After suffering the pains of whelping, his babies would be taken. Again. But maybe... If he was good... if he was lucky... if he was careful... If the timing was just right... he might be able to hide the fact he had delivered for a few treasured hours. He'd been able to do that last time, with the Other's help. He had hidden away his newborn little girl for nearly an entire day. His eyes filled with tears. He could still remember the feel of her tiny lips sucking at his breast. He could picture the perfection of her curled in his arms, the warmth of her body against his skin. It had been wonderful just to hold her, to stare at her beautiful, scrunched up little face, into those bottomless blue eyes. He would never forget her or the others that were taken before he even got to hold them or see them. He had borne five babies. He could remember how his body had swelled with each one. He could remember how it felt when they moved within him, how it felt when they left his body. He could remember. He would always remember despite what the Aphas said or believed.

A slow tear squeezed past his tightly shut eyelids as the Alpha pulled the thing from his hole.

 

It didn't seem right, Bobby thought stubbornly, angrily. It wasn't right taking a baby from its momma --or omma- its whatever. It just wasn't right. As a foster parent, he'd seen more than his share of sorry-assed parenting. Still those kids invariably fought to stay with their screwed up families. And the mothers wanted their kids. It was human nature. It was a fact. A baby belonged with its momma. Or omma. Whatever. Bobby shook his head in disgust. This whole baby breeding /selling business just wasn't right. It might be legal. It might be how things were done, had always been done. But it wasn't right, at least not to his way of thinking.

Bobby saw the fat tear slide from beneath the long lashes. Alphas might think that they knew it all. But Bobby didn't think they actually knew squat. He wiped the tear away with a gentle touch.

"You all done here?" He demanded of Benny, eager to get the Omega away from the callous Alpha veterinary. 

"Yessir," Benny drawled. "I'd say whelping is at least four to six weeks off. Give us time to fatten up those two. Plump sells better than scrawny."

Bobby couldn't find any reply to that. He busied himself wiping the excess slick from the Omega's crack. That accomplished, he guided the bent figure to stand upright. The Omega stood docilely, waiting Bobby realized to be used or abused. This whole damn shit scene was just fucking crazy, the Beta thought angrily. How the hell could the world be so fucked up that this was considered normal? He had personally never paid much attention to the Alpha/Omega dynamics. He had always operated on the principle that it wasn't his lifestyle therefore it wasn't his business. But now seeing it first hand, how could he turn a blind eye to the out and out abuse of another living creature? With no easy answer to that, he bent down to retrieve the puddled sleep pants. One good tug had the garment back in place, covering the pregnant body. 

He had to get out of here, Bobby thought. Get somewhere where the world made sense again, where he had some control of the happenings around him. Bobby started for the door, pushing the inert Omega ahead of him. No way was he leaving the Om in this bastard, Benny's care, if he could help it. The Omega stumbled, limped awkwardly as he lurched toward the door. Dammit! Move! Bobby thought misdirecting his impotent rage at the easy target. He caught himself just short of shoving the Omega out the door. Stop it! He told himself. You are not your father. You do not take your anger and frustrations out on innocent beings. His job was to help and protect. He was there to stop the abuse. But Bobby realized he could not stop it. He couldn't be here 24/7. He had a wife, a job, those foster kids. He had responsibilities. Bills to pay and mouths to feed. He couldn't be here constantly to keep the Cajun's Alpha in check.

Neither could Sam. Besides his classes, he had his work at the clinic plus the odd jobs he was always taking on to make ends meet. And there was Jessica. Having a relationship required time. Maybe, Bobby thought as he guided Om-2 back down the corridor, Jess wasn’t being so unreasonable about putting a deadline on the Omegas being moved out of here. This housing situation wasn’t good. Something needed to change. And that change needed to come quick or— Bobby didn't want to think of all the ways things could go from bad to worse.

Bobby let Om-2 back into the converted adoption room with a sigh of relief. He didnt think Benny was likely to try anything here. The room, right off the reception area and with the closed circuit monitors, was too public for the Alpha’s intention. At least, he hoped it was safe for the Omegas here.

Om-2 stood just inside the doorway, waiting for a command or some further guidance. Shit! Couldn’t he take any initiative? Did he have to be told to even sit down and relax? Didn’t he have any gumption? Bobby thought, overwhelmed by the idea of having this much control over another being. Then he remembered the scarred back, the hobbled ankle, the mute collar— shit—it was a wonder the poor kid dared to breathe on his own.

Bobby pulled himself together. There would be time to worry about the what-ifs and how are we going to manage in the future. Right now he would deal with the here and now. Like Karen always said, one step at a time. Don’t borrow trouble. Good advice. Bobby looked his charge over.

“You got everything you need? Are you hungry? Thirsty?” He asked as he pantomimed eating and drinking. The Omega chanced a glance at the big Beta. He shook his head slightly. The long haired Alpha with the quiet voice and gentle hands had fed them earlier and left generous supplies too. But he had said the Beta would... Om-2's eyes darted quickly from the Bobby to the small room behind the opposite door. He needed to pee but couldn’t with the stopper shoved up his dangle. An Omega was not allowed to remove any 'enhancement' that an Alpha used on its body but his bladder ached with fullness. The babies' kicked suddenly, a solid blow to his innards. Om-2's lips parted in a silent cry. He looked pleadingly at the Beta for a few seconds before casting his eyes respectfully downward.

Bobby's brow furrowed as he watched the nervous eye movements. The little Omega was trying to tell him something. He was sure of that. Dammit, if only he could say it, tell him what was needed. The Omega opened his mouth suddenly. Bobby felt a surge of illogical hope. But the lips closed, the features screwed up into an involuntary grimace as the big green eyes dropped to the floor. Bobby felt his frustration building as he watched the Omega shift from one foot to the other. Dammit! What did he need? He didn't have time for guessing games! Frustration mounted as Bobby puzzled over the situation. The Om had looked across the room at--

"Oh shit!" Bobby exclaimed as realization hit him smack dab in the gut. "I'm sorry, darling. I nearly forgot about your- your- you know." Bobby stammered, blushing beet red. "Well, come on. Let's get this done." Determined to get the unpleasantness over, Bobby marched them both into the bathroom.

It wasn't easy to fit two full sized beings into a space designed to be used by one, but they made it work. Bobby couldn't bend over properly to see what he had to see, so he had to feel his way through the whole embarrassing procedure. A bit of groping beneath the big belly, some fumbling to get a grip and a whole lot of muttered curses served to extract the sound. Om-2 stoically withstood it all. And despite Sam's warning, Bobby was pleased to see the Omega retained enough control to empty his bladder in the toilet rather than on the floor or, heaven forbid, on him. He had been 'baptized' by more than one foster baby during diaper changes . Being peed on was an experience Bobby earnestly sought to avoid.

Their task complete, Bobby ushered the Omega back to his cot. He could read both relief and fatigue playing across the handsome freckled face. The kid was a really looker. He could almost understand Benny's attraction. He didn't like the Cajun's tactics but that was part of the difference between an Alpha and a Beta. Alphas took what they wanted. Betas worked for it. Bobby sighed. Feeling his age and then some. Much as he hated to admit it, he was in need of a break himself. Back at his shop, there was a tricked out Chevy pickup with a nice blown head gasket waiting for him. Some grease under his nails and honest sweat on his brow sounded mighty fine to Bobby after this morning's business. 

"Get some rest." He offered as his parting advice before he left the makeshift sleeping quarters.


	14. Chapter 14

"You're very good with him." The pixie organizing her station at the reception console, commented as Bobby crossed the waiting room.

"Excuse me?" Bobby replied, an eyebrow on the rise in surprise.

"You are very good with him." The red head repeated with a nod toward her desktop. "And I like the haircut you gave him. Lets us all see how handsome he is."

"Thanks." Bobby acknowledged with a shrug. He stepped over to lean against the chest high partition. "You been watching?" He dipped his shaggy head down to catch a glimpse of the closed circuit monitor built into her station. Om-2 had moved to sit beside the sleeping Om-1.

The red head pulled a face of distaste, "The boss' orders. Dr. Jessie thinks the Omegas will be up to no good if they aren't supervised. I don't know what she thinks the poor things would do. They're half starved and scared to death. I feel like a real creep, spying on them."

"Think of it as watching out for them." Bobby suggested. "Keeping them from harm. There are some folks around here that ain’t got the best intentions."

Charlie looked up at him with big disbelieving eyes. "Oh, I know Jess talks a hard line but she's a softie really. She won't really turn them out on the street. She's only blowing off steam. She's just worried about their presence interrupting business. Like will every Alpha that comes in be able to scent the Omegas? Are they going to be fighting over them?" She didn't give Bobby a chance to answer, barely pausing to draw a breath as she continued to share her thoughts. "Really I think she's more worried that Sam will take an interest, if you know what I mean, in one of them. Jessica likes being the belle of the ball. She doesn't like competition for 'her' man."

"I ain't worried about Sam and Jess' love life." Bobby stated bluntly. "I don't like the way Dr. Oh-la-la has been eying Om-2. He ain't got the best interests of his patient in mind."

"Oh, Benny is really pretty harmless." Charlie waved aside Bobby's concerns. "He talks a big game. Flirts with all the ladies. I think he's cast himself as the 'tall, dark and dangerous' type. You know, like Rhett Butler in 'Gone with the Wind'. He lays it on thick but if Jess would just look his way, he'd melt. That is if Sam were out of the way." She sighed dramatically. "Don't you just love romantic old movies! Let's see, if Benny is Rhett, that would make Jess, Scarlet. And Sam, Ashley. Noble, kind, intellectual Ashley. It all fits, don't you think?"

"I don't know nothing about that." Bobby muttered. Sam had raved about what a genius this girl was. To Bobby's way of thinking, she seemed to be a bubble head, too busy talking to be of much practical use. But she was a friend of Sam's and for his sake, Bobby would try to put up with her flights of fancy.

"And Ellen would be Mammy- no one gets away with anything with Ellen. But don't cast me as Prissy- 'I don't know nothing about birthing babies' - because I do. I've helped deliver lots of puppies and kittens, and even a colt, when Jessica had an emergency call back when we first opened this clinic. And I'm not Melanie, poor sweet, devoted Melly. Sam's just not my type. Or Benny either."

Does she ever shut up?, Bobby thought to himself. When does she breathe? Can't even get a word in edgewise. He let the girl's babbling flow over him. Not paying much attention as she ran on and on with her nonsense while he tried to come up with a polite way to excuse himself. Shouldn't the clinic be opening soon? He should be able to escape when clients started to arrive. The peace of his shop and that blown head gasket were looking damn good right now...

"Look! I think they're talking to each other. I mean communicating- I know with those horrid collars that they can't talk but see how they tap their fingers? I think it's some kind of code."

Bobby shifted around the receptionist's station until he had a full view of the monitor. Sure enough, Om-2 sat perched on the edge of Om-1's cot. He held the other Omega's hand tapping lightly in his palm, while fresh tears streamed down his face. Om-1 responded by reaching up to draw the other Omega down to the comfort of his embrace. Om-1 stroked the newly cropped hair, shifted to kiss the wet cheek as Om-2 silently sobbed in his arms.

"Well I'll be damned." Bobby exclaimed under his breath.

 

Once the Beta had left, Om-2 moved quickly to the Other. He sat gingerly on the edge of the cot, trying to not jostle the Other and cautious of the plastic tubes tethering his body. As soon as Om-2 settled those beautiful blue eyes that he loved, opened and focused on him. Om-2 forced a small smile. He was pleased to see the Other was looking better but the Alpha’s words haunted his thoughts.

Om-1 stretched a trembling arm up to touch the dampness lingering on his Companion's cheek. He was still weak from the agony in his belly and a bit woozy from the medicine the tall Alpha had given him earlier. He let his hand trail down his Companion's neck to his shoulder on down his arm until his hand was taken and held. The novelty of the haircut and clothing made his Companion look even more appealing than usual.

Om-1 was troubled by the trace of tears marring his Companion's beauty. What had happened with the furry faced Beta? Concentrating, he moved his index finger purposely against the other’s palm. [Hurt?]

Om-2 shook his head once from side to side. [Sad] He explained. [Scared] He rested his free hand upon the swell of his belly. [Alpha take babies]

Om-1 was confused. Of course the Alphas would take his Companion's baby. Alphas always took the babies. That was why Omegas had babies - for Alphas to take. His Companion knew that. They were experienced Omegas. They had both whelped multiple times. It was his fault that his Companion was distress now. He should never have helped him hide his last baby. It had been a mistake to let him think that they could keep the girl child hidden. Eventually the Alphas would notice the baby had been whelped. It was inevitable. Keeping the baby had been a foolish dream. He knew it. As did his Companion. But it had been a precious few hours of joy to hold the baby— to feel the warm, wet body slide from his Companion's body into his hands, to place the new life into its Omega’s arms. The experience had been overwhelming. The baby had suckled at both their breasts. The tug of those tiny lips had pulled taut their heartstrings. For a day, they had been a family— despite their confinement, the bleak conditions of their servitude, the impossibility of a future— for a brief time they had been together. And they had been happy.

He remembered the devastation Om-2 had felt when the Alphas took their baby. For days, weeks he had wept, rarely sleeping. He had refused to eat, barely drank enough water to stay alive. He, too, had grieved at their loss. And he feared for his Companion's well being. The Alphas had, of course, punished them for their misdeed. The whippings had been severe— maybe that was why his last whelping had not gone well, there had been too much blood and the pain was worse than ever before. But that didnt matter. He had done what he could to care for his Companion, caring for his wounds, coercing him to take food and water, whatever he could do to get them through each day. He feared for his Companion's life— felt he wanted to die. He thought he would have died but Omegas were designed for one thing— to bear children— and all too soon, as they both knew it would, Om-2’s heat had come again. Then the Alphas had come, of course, as they always did. More than just their owners, more, actually, than he had fingers to count. He tried to prep the Alphas to make it easier for his Companion to bear their knots. If the Alphas allowed it, and most did, he willingly mouthed their cocks, anything to make the breeding easier for his heartsick Companion. He had done all he could to help.

Om-1 knew he would do anything to for his Companion. Anything. But all he could offer now was the comfort of his arms.

 

"Mr. Winchester. Do you have a question?" 

Sam snapped back to the present with a start. He looked around the classroom quickly, startled to realize that he was the only student remaining. He shifted his long body nervously. Shit, he'd been caught daydreaming. Caught up in his own woes, instead of paying attention in class. Sam glanced desperately down at his open notebook. The blank sheet stared back at him. Damn, he hadn't even written down the topic of today's lecture. Professor Zachariah had him cold. Zachariah the Zealot, as the kids called him. The man might be a brilliant lecturer but he was also a sanctimous prick who loved weeding out the unworthy from the hallowed halls of higher education. The man handed out failing grades like they were Halloween candy. Shit! And double shit!

"Mr. Winchester." The professor repeated haughtily. "Do you require some assistance?"

Sam cleared his throat. Awkwardly he levered his elongated body out of the too small student desk. With a quick bend he snagged his backpack from beneath the chair. "No, sir. Sorry, sir." Sam stuffed the incriminating notebook into his bag. Head lowered, hair fallen over his face to hide his embarrassment, he shuffled out between rows of desks, very aware of the professor's looming presence. "Sorry, sir. I was, uh, just, uh, thinking." Sam offered lamely.

We can only hope that you will find our next class even more thought provoking." The man's rounded tones taunted Sam as his made his escape. 

Sam allowed himself a sigh of relief as he stepped out into the fresh air. It was a nice day. A bit on the cool side with a steady breeze but sunny and bright. He had nearly two hours to kill before his next class. He should go to the library and study. Or maybe he should track down Brady and copy his notes. That would be a real switch! Brady sucked at taking notes but he owed Sam big time in the sharing department. Brady would most likely be filling his face at the Student Union, Sam realized as his stomach grumbled on cue. He didn't want to go there. He was broke. Again. Sam swung his backpack into a comfortable position over his too wide shoulders. He would steer clear of the Union. He had no desire to show up looking like a beggar sniffing around for crumbs.

Sam fished his cell phone from the back pocket of his jeans. He cringed to see that he had only ten more days before he had to buy a new card to add service time. Shit, another expense. He checked the Uber app, hoping he could pick up a quick fare. If he could, he might splurge on a burger from McDonald's dollar menu on his way back to campus. Sam scrolled through the queue of requests for rides. Nothing near campus. Nothing quick. A big fat nothing. Just like his life, Sam concluded as he started across campus.

Sam felt the cloak of depression closing in, trying to smother him. It was a battle he had faced nearly all his life. His family was cursed. Or karma had it out for him. Whatever. His life was a shitfest. Always had been. Always would be.

His Mom had died when he was only a baby, perishing in a mysterious house fire. Although his Dad had gotten he and his brother, Dean out to safety, their Mom had been trapped. Sam had no real memories of her or that night, he'd been only six months old at the time. But he had recurring nightmares of flames and screams. He figured she had died in agony. Neither Dad nor Dean ever spoke of her or that fire. The one time Sam had dared to ask, Dean had hit him hard across the face and shouted at him to never talk about Mom. That had been the only time his big brother had ever hit him. The only time he'd seen Dean cry. That had scared Sam so much that he never mentioned their mother again.

Their Dad had tried, Sam knew he had. John Winchester had tried to be a good father but the demands on a single parent were heavy. Add the grief, the tragedy of losing the love of your life, well, Sam could understand why his father had sought comfort in a bottle. And things just had snowballed from there. The drinking had led to jobs lost, friends had given up, turned away. John had moved them around a lot, searching for jobs, peace. Something. While John had drowned in booze, he and Dean had no one but each other to rely on..

Dean had been the strength that kept their floundering family together. Sam knew that Dean had been more of a parent to him than their father was capable of. When John did bring home a paycheck, Dean somehow managed to squirrel away enough money to keep them fed and clothed. It was never enough but they got by. Somehow Dean had made it work. He got Sam off to school. He pushed Sam to work for the future, to believe that life could be, would be better. Sam still couldn't figure out how Dean had done all he did.

When Dean presented as an Omega, that was the final blow that shattered their family. The Omega Authorities came, alerted by someone, Sam never knew who. They had official papers. They wore scary uniforms, carried stun guns. To this day, the sight of an Om official made Sam want to puke. Or smash in their faces. He had to work hard to control his rage. It was an on going battle just like beating back the black funk that hovered over him. Ever since the Authorities had taken Dean away, conscripted as a potential Omega breeder. It was all legal, sanctioned by the government. It was necessary. In a society with plummeting birth rates, it was good policy to maximize the availability of fertile breeders. That was the official line.

Sam didn't believe that bull shit then. And he sure didn't believe it now. Not after what he’d seen in rescues like the other day. Even as a ten year old, he knew separating Dean from his family was wrong. But what could he do. When the officials had come, John was out cold- again- too much booze, of course. There was no one that Sam could turn to but Reverend Jim, the minister in charge of the shelter they were temporarily hold up in. The old man had tried. He had gone to appeal Dean’s seizure, only to return with the fairy tale that Omegas lived happily ever after having babies in the country. Sam knew it was a line of crap- Dean wouldn’t be happy anywhere but with his family. But what could Sam do? Not enough apparently. Within a year John had drank himself into a grave. And Sam was firmly entrenched in the foster care system. Babies were desirable, older orphans, especially problematic teens were not. If it hadn’t been for Bobby and Karen, Sam knew his fate would have been bleaker than black. They believed in him and his potential. They pushed him to go to college, to dream of a better future. But most importantly, Bobby had taught him that family didn’t end with blood.

Blood, hmm. Inspiration struck Sam. He hadn’t given blood for a couple of weeks. He checked the time. If he scrambled, he could do a plasma drain, score half a Benjamin with the bonus of free cookies and juices. With some cash in his pocket, he might be able to soothe things over with Jess. Flowers, maybe. Or take out Chinese. It wasn’t Jess' fault that she didn’t get his need to help the Omegas. Jess didn’t share his sordid past. Maybe he should spring for that little sushi place around the corner from the clinic. Jessica was the best part of his life. Sam didn't want to screw that up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The communication between the Omegas is a very barebones code- lacking punctuation, verb tenses and the fluidity of a oral language. But it does allow the two to communicate their thoughts and feelings. I have used brackets [ ] to denote their interchanges.


	15. Chapter 15

Classes done for the day, fifty dollars burning a hole in his pocket, Sam headed back to the vet clinic. Two thoughts occupied his mind: checking on the Omegas and getting Jessica to forgive him. He was debating which task to tackle first, weighing the merits of who to see first, as he pulled into the parking lot. When he spotted the Sheriff's car parked near the front door, any thoughts of strategy went out of his head. Sheriff Mills might just be following up on the outcome of the rescue. She could just be satisfying her personal curiosity. Or maybe she had gotten a pet, Sam told himself. He wasn't a bad guy, hadn’t committed any crime so there was no reason to panic at the sight of a cop at the door. Yet a sense of foreboding weighed him down as Sam parked then headed into the clinic.

Charlie greeted him with a tight smile and darting eyes. "Sam! Thank the Goddess you're here. Sheriff Mills is in with Jess. I don't know what's happening but I don't think it's good. She was all tough cop, no smiles, with official papers and all. Asked if the Omegas were still under treatment. And on the premises." She dropped her voice into a whisper. "Should we get the Oms out? Hide them somewhere?"

Faced with her anxiousness, Sam found his calm. "Jody is not the enemy." He stated, hoping he was right. "Are they in Jessie's office? I'll see what's up."

Charlie nodded. Her soul filled eyes questioned his reasoning. "I don't know if that's such a good idea."

Sam squared his shoulders, stiffened his spine in anticipation. "I got Jess into this. I'm not letting her take the heat alone."

 

Determined, Sam rapped once for politeness before he opened the door to Jessica's office. The muted tangle of voice he had heard through the closed door ceased as he stepped in. Immediately he saw that Jody was frowning and Jessica's beautiful blue eyes were swimming with tears.

"Sam, oh, Sam." Jessica rushed to close the distance separating them. Her arms wound around his neck as she hugged his strength to her trembling body. "I'm being sued!" She blurted out. "And it's because of those damned Omegas! I told you they would be trouble. I--"

Sheriff Mills interrupted, her voice calm and reasonable. "Technically you are both named in the suit." She stepped forward to hand Sam his own packet of papers. Her face screwed up into an expression of distaste as she explained, "I suspect Dr. Morgan is named as primary because she has deeper pockets."

Sam shifted, tucking Jess under his arm so he could scan the paperwork. He did a fast read. "They're saying we illegally seized the Omegas. But we had warrants. Court orders. I went by the books to be sure everything was in order and legal for the raid. You know that Sheriff."

"And I'll testify to that fact. But I'm afraid nothing we had specified Omegas. No one had any suspicions that the Crowleys had Omegas. This is contesting your right to take them specifically."

"Sheriff, you saw the condition they were in! The hell they were living in! If we hadn't acted immediately Om-1 would be dead. You know that, Jody, you saw it."

"I did." Jody stated with conviction, sympathy evident in her doelike eyes. "And I'm more than willing to testify on your behalf. Frankly I don't think their case is worth the paper it's printed on." She held up her hand to forestall Jessica's surge of relief. "But you're going to have to argue that in court. They’ve got a sharp lawyer. They've already filed a motion for Judge Turner to recluse himself. They've cited bias, personal relationships and overall sympathetic leanings. Bet that has old Rufus spitting mad." Jody added trying to lighten the mood. "The case will most likely be assigned to another judge. You will --we will need to make our case to that new judge. Jo's photos and videos will document the squalor, the medical emergency. I'm sure you've documented their medical condition and subsequent treatment. You have a strong defense. You did what was right and humane, Sam."

"But a trial will mean lawyers. Lawyers are expensive. And I doubt my malpractice insurance will cover this mess. There will be publicity . We can't control the press. My name, the clinic's reputation could be dragged through the mud. This could ruin me, Sam!"

“Jess, I’ll take care of it. Everything will be alright. I promise you.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Sam!” She hissed as she worked to dry her tears.

 

“Alright, let’s settle down here.” Bobby directed as he took his place at the center of the couch, with the chosen book in hand. The small bodies squirmed into position on either side. “You got enough room there, Bright Eyes?” He asked the little girl. She nodded eagerly. “How about you, Champ?” He regarded her brother, who nodded with equal enthusiasm.

“But Callie can’t see the pages!” Jenna complained. “We have to make room for Callie.”

“She’s welcome to join us if she wants to. Plenty of room for one more.” Bobby looked toward the oldest, sulking across the room. He was about to extend the invitation again when she cut him off with a snarky refusal. “I don’t need no one to read to me. Especially not a baby book like that.” She sneered.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Bobby drawled, regarding the well worn book with affection. “I’ve always thought that you never grow too old for Dr. Seuss. He packs a heap of fun in his pages. And more than a bit of wisdom. If you give it a try you might actually enjoy it and learn something.”

Callie answered with a dramatic eye roll as she turned away. She had no intention of getting near this guy, if she could help it. And she had been trying to keep him away from Jenna and Drew too. But the little ones seemed to be buying his ‘Dear Daddy’ routine. She intended to keep a sharp watch for any funny stuff from the creep. When he stepped over the line, and the bastards always did, she would scream blood murder to their caseworker. Determined to be vigilant, she plopped down in the recliner she knew he favored. Callie made a show of tucking her feet under her as she curled up in the chair with her fancy new notebook and the set of markers which she had scored off of the lady patsy just by looking teary eyed. Callie thought she had this pair of so called do gooders all figured out. It surprised her more than a little when neither of the adults in the room seemed to notice her shoes were on the furniture.

“Suit yourself.” Bobby shrugged off her attitude. Teens and preteens were always hard to reach. It would take time and a whole lot of patience. Appreciating that the younger two were more willing to accept his attention, Bobby opened the book. “‘Horton Hears a Who’ by Dr. Seuss.” He began. “On the fifteenth of May, in the Jungle of Nool, In the heat of the day, in the cool of the pool...”

 

Karen kept her head down, her smile hidden as she pretended to concentrate on her knitting. She loved to listen to her Bobby read to their foster kids. It had become something of a family tradition, starting with Sam’s arrival and their discovery that he could barely read. Unconsciously, Karen smile grew as she thought of that dear boy and the fine man he had become. She and Bobby had made a difference in his life. That was something of which she would always be proud.

Bobby has getting into the story now. His deep voice rolled with the cadence, played with the quirky words. Karen's head popped up as Bobby shifted into a shrill falsetto for the interfering Mama kangaroo and her baby. The sight of her big, gruff husband sandwiched between the two small bodies, made her heart swell. Both children were leaning into him, savoring the shelter of his strength. Karen couldn’t help herself. She feel in love with that big galoot all over again. Bobby might think of himself as a tough guy, but Karen knew he was really a marshmallow inside. Her man had so much love to give...

Karen chanced a glance at Callie. The twelve year old quickly averted her eyes when she saw Karen look her way. The teen put on a good show of being thoroughly absorbed in her technicolor doodling. Karen wasn't fooled. She knew the girl was watching, listening. She understood her standoff attitude. She appreciated that Callie was protective of her younger siblings. It was very likely the girl had been abused, possibly- probably molested. Because of confidentiality laws, the caseworkers never gave the foster parents the full story behind a placement. Karen knew she and Bobby would have to earn the girl's trust. With time and love, she hoped they could reach her. If Callie could learn to trust them, Karen knew she and Bobby could make her life and her siblings' better.

*

Before checking on the recuperating Omegas, Sam concentrated on bringing his biorhythms under control. He was very aware that as an Alpha, the Omegas would react to his pheromones. And the last thing they needed was to be burdened by his stress and anxiety. Jessica hadn’t taken the news of the lawsuit well. To say she was royally pissed was an understatement. And with no other outlet for her emotions, Sam was taking the full force of her outrage and fear. Her first instinct had been to try to rid herself of the problem by getting rid of the Oms. Fortunately, Jody had been there to reason with her and calm her at least a little. If they turned the Omegas over to the authorities now, Jody cautioned, that might be construed as an admission that the rescue team had no authority to take them in the first place. She advised that they should do nothing rash. Instead the Sheriff recommended contacting O.W.L., the Omega Welfare League for advice, perhaps a legal referral. 

Sam had asked Charlie to see to that as soon as Jess had left to tell her parents the bad news. He thought himself lucky to be able to avoid that scene. He would have to face Mr. and Mrs. Moore eventually, Sam knew, but he preferred to do so with a game plan in hand.

He accepted responsibility for the fact Jess was in trouble. He understood why she was so upset. She had a lot at stake. Her family had invested a fortune in her education, in real estate, in equipment to make her dream of being a veterinarian a reality. Now her good for nothing boyfriend was jeopardizing all of it so he could play hero. The Moores never had approved of him or his relationship with their daughter. He got it. He did. Jessica was intelligent and beautiful. She could do so much better than him. Jessica could have any man she chose. Sam knew he had plenty of competitors. Even his best friend, Brady would happily take his place as Jess’ man.

Sam let his head drop into his hands. He wasn’t doing a good job of regulating his thoughts or his emotions. He snorted, a derisive laugh. He wasn’t doing a very good job of anything right now, it would seem. It was only a matter of time before he lost Jess. Just like he lost all of the people that mattered to him.

* 

”Well, now, I think three books,” Bobby said sadly, “Is about my limit tonight. I think it’s about time you read to me. How about it, Drew?” The little boy looked up at him with terror filled eyes at his suggestion. In his peripheral vision, he saw Callie stiffen to attention, ready to come to her brother’s defense. “How about you give this one a try?” Bobby pulled the beginner’s classic from the pile of books the kids had carried over to prolong their reading session. “This one is called, “Hop on Pop.” Bobby pointed to each word as he he said it. “By Dr. Seuss.” He opened the book to the first page, as he encouraged. “Give it a try, Champ.”

Drew eyed the book hesitantly. “It’s got too many pages. I don’t read so good.”

“Give it a try.” Bobby repeated. “I’ll help out if you need it.”

The little boy heaved a heavy sigh. Callie stirred, ready to intervene. Bobby warned her off with a slight shake of his head. “Up P-P-Pup. Pup is up.” 

“That’s it. Keep going.”

Drew pulled in another big breath and continued, “”Cup Pup. Pup in Cup. Pup Cup. Cup on Pup.” The boy looked to Bobby for approval. With a broad smile and a nod, Bobby urged him on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Horton Hears a Who” and “Hop on Pop” by Dr. Seuss, published by Random House


	16. Chapter 16

“Hey, Ellen, how are they doing today?” Sam asked when he finally stepped into the adoption room. It had taken him far longer than he felt it should have to get himself under sufficient control. Sam felt guilty about that, like he had been shirking his responsibilities while others did his job.

“Oh, we’re all good here. Aren’t we, fellas?” Ellen asked rhetorically. “We’re doing real fine. Number One, here has just had a nice sponge bath. And no doubt, he’s happy that I took that nasty catheter out, aren’t you, Sweetie. We'll need to get him up and moving some. You know, avoid blood clots, other such complications.” She continued snipping away at the dark mass of hair that Om-1 sported. “I’ve changed the dressings on both. Healing’s coming along nicely. Given them their meds. Made the updates to their charts.” She nodded toward the files by the door, as she shifted to work on the other side. Sam picked up Om-1's chart and scanned it as Ellen went on with her report. “Number Two’s freshly showered. Both have fresh duds. I’ll throw the dirties in the wash before I leave. You’re responsible for getting the last load in the dryer. Don’t forget. I don’t want to have to deal with it in the morning. You hear me, son?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Sam felt out of the loop. Apparently a lot had happened while he was at class and getting himself under control. He studied Om-1 with his evolving haircut then did a double take when he saw Om-2’s cropped do. “You’ve been busy.”

“Not all me. Bobby’s responsible for the military buzz on that one. I figured I couldn’t do any worse- and maybe a good deal better- on this one. What do you think? He’s looking kind of pretty, eh?” She ruffled the dark hair. “Helps that he’s got some color back in his cheeks. You’re feeling better, aren’t you, kiddo.”

Om-1 gave a small quick nod. Sam’s brows lifted, surprised by the response. “Don’t look so shocked, kid. They may be Omegas but they aren't brainless. Charlie even thinks they have a code of some sort to talk with each other. Myself, I think she’s chasing unicorns,” she shrugged. “But she could be right. That girl knows too much for her own good. There.” Ellen stepped back, scissors still in hand, she rested her fists on her hips as she considered her efforts. “What do you think? Looking good, eh?”

”Yah,” Sam confirmed, “Real good.”

 

Om-2 tried to make himself small when the Alpha stepped into the holding pen. He was relieved to see it was the quiet one, not the one who talked pretty but had hard hands. This Alpha was gentle when he touched although this one mostly kept his hands to himself. That was unusual for an Alpha.

Om-2 could feel the Alpha and the Beta woman looking at him. He was clean and groomed. He had been well fed and allowed adequate rest. No doubt he would be expected to work for his good fortune now. It was no more than he expected. He only hoped that they would be satisfied with his services. The Other was still in pain and was far too weak to serve. Determined to spare the Other, and hoping to maintain his good standing with these new owners, Om-2 sank to his knees beside his bed. He arched his hips upward in offering. That was not an easy feat considering his gravid condition but he was well trained in holding uncomfortable positions for his master's pleasure.

 

“You got them all bedded down?” Bobby asked when Karen descended the stairs.

“Drew and Jenna are both ‘reading’ in bed.” Her smile broadened as she crossed the living room. “One story time and you’ve worked your magic. You’ve made book lovers out both of them. And Callie thinks I didn't see it but she smuggled ‘Horton’ into her room.” 

“Now you’re just yanking my chain.” Bobby chuckled. He reached out to snag her arm as she passed by on her way to her own chair and her knitting. “Come here, woman. Your man needs some sugar.” He used just enough strength to pull her down and across his lap.

“Bobby Singer, you behave yourself.” She batted playfully at his chest. “Stop that.” She squirmed and giggled as he nuzzled the nape of her neck. The man knew her well. That spot was sure to make her melt. “Bobby cut it out!” Her protest was halfhearted at best. “We’ve got littles ones upstairs. They’ll hear us.”

“Honey, those kids, no doubt have heard- and seen- a lot worse than a man cuddling with his wife.”

She leaned back, both hands pushing against his chest to maintain some control.“Is cuddling all you’ve got in mind? You seem awfully ‘frisky’ tonight.” She eyed him closely. “Makes me wonder if you have ulterior motives.”

“Woman, are you accusing me of something?” Bobby scowled. “Can’t a man just want a little affection from his wife?”

“He can. But you, buster, are the one who taught me to play poker.” She looked him in the eye as she drilled her forefinger into his chest. “And you taught me about ‘tells’ so I’d know when our kids were lying to us. So don’t try to pull any shenanigans on me. I know you. Inside and out. So ‘fess up. What are you trying to sweet talk me into?”

Bobby screwed up his face. This wasn’t going like he had planned. Well, he decided, if subterfuge wasn’t doing the trick, that left the truth. “I overheard Jessica tear Sam a new one this morning. Gave him an ultimatum. He’s got til Friday noon to get the Omegas out or she turns them over to the authorities.”

Karen’s spine stiffened with indignation. “That girl! What is her problem?” She huffed. “This time.”

“Same old, same old.” Bobby shrugged. “She’s worried about the clinic, the cost. Doesn’t like Sam searching for his brother.”

Karen heaved herself off his lap to burn off some of her anger pacing the floor. “Sam could do so much better than that woman. I swear that girl has a cash register instead of a heart. All she sees are dollar signs. I told you it was a mistake for him to move in with her. He should never have given up his own place.”

“I ain’t arguing with you.”

“What does she expect Sam to do? Snap his fingers like her daddy does and make everything right in her world! The nerve of her. She's just a spoiled brat. What does Sam plan to do?”

"Don't think the poor kid has any idea at this point. But I've been thinking," Bobby bent his head to rub the back of his neck before he laid his head on the chopping block. "I thought maybe we could-"

"Bobby Singer, you're not suggesting bringing them here! Not with three new foster kids to settle in!" Karen threw her hands up in dismay. "Good lord, CFS* will revoke our license! Hell, we could be brought up on child endangerment charges. Morality charges."

“Hon, they ain’t like that.” Bobby broke in, talking fast and thinking faster. He rose to confront his wife. “I know what you’re thinking— that Omegas are sex crazed sirens luring Alphas into endless orgies. But I swear to you, they are not like what’s in the porn vids. They’re the innocents here. Those two have been beaten and caged. Karen, honey, they’ve been bred and their babies taken from them.” That fact made Karen’s eyes cloud with tears. “They need help as much as any foster child who’s ever crossed our doorstep.” Bobby took her hands in his as he continued. “And I wasn’t thinking of bringing’em here, not to the house. I thought Sam’s old apartment over the garage might be a good place to house them. It’s been sitting empty since he moved in with Jessica. Wouldn’t take much to spiff it up a bit. Even in the state it is in, it would be a damn sight better than what they are used to. I know it’s a lot to ask. That you already have your hands full with the kids. I’d do all I can to help out. I’d supervise them, I swear. And it would only be temporary. I promise...”

Karen silenced him by placing a hand over his mouth. “They steal their babies?” She asked in a small hurt voice.

Bobby nodded sadly. “The way I understand it, the babies are sold right after birth to the highest bidder.” He regretted hurting her with that information but she needed to know how bad the situation really was. “Doc LaFitte says Om-2 has whelped five babies already. He’ll drop twin boys in a month or so.”

“Enough! I don’t want to hear anymore.” Karen turned away. Bobby knew it was so she could hide her tears. He hated to see her cry. He swore to himself that he would never mention the Omegas again. “After I get the kids off to school, I’ll check with their caseworker. If she okays it, I’ll start cleaning the apartment. If all goes well, it will be ready for them when the docs release them.”

Bobby took Karen into his arms. “Woman, what did I ever do to deserve you?” He asked as he he bent to claim a kiss.

Karen held him off with a firm hand against his chest. “I’m not sure you do deserve me. What are you doing watching Omega porn videos?” She arched an eyebrow, demanding an answer.

Bobby did his best not to squirm under her ‘don’t mess with me’ stare.

 

“What’s he doing?” Ellen gasped, embarrassed by the wanton display.

“I think—“ Sam gulped, bracing himself against the lure, “I thinking he’s offering his— um, ah— services.” His face flamed red. Pheromones were flooding the small room. “His body— um— you know—“ He fumbled with the words as he pushed his hair back, let it fall forward again. Anything to hide from Ellen. Oh God, the tee shirt was bunching up to reveal the swollen midsection, the sweat pants were riding low on the slim hips. With minimal effort, Sam realized he could bare that supple body. He could—

“No.” Sam barked, uncertain whether he was denying the Omega or his own libido. "Stop it! Get up!"

Om-2 wilted to the floor, releasing the strained position. He cowered at the Alpha's feet. Apparently a knotting would not divert their attention from the Other. Perhaps, Om-2 thought quickly, submitting to punishment would satisfy the Alpha. Om-2 stayed crumpled on the floor. He waited to serve in whatever manner the Alpha desired.

Something inside Sam broke. He felt sick. Intellectually he knew that Omegas were sexual creatures but he purposely did not think of that aspect of their lives. He preferred to think of Omegas as he remembered Dean- loving, caring, self sacrificing, generous, playful— Sam looked down at the cringing Om. Why was he comparing his lost brother to this pitiful creature? Maybe it was the crew cut that trigger his memories. He grasped onto the excuse. Their Marine veteran father had always given them buzz cuts when they were kids. That was why Sam preferred his hair long now. It was a small form of rebellion but it served to distance him from unhappy memories. 

”Sorry, Ellen. I need to step out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *CFS = Child and Family Services


	17. Chapter 17

"Well, I'll be damned!" Ellen muttered as Sam fled the room. She looked at the Omega still cowering on the floor. She could see his face in profile. The poor thing looked even more confused than Sam. Well, she thought, as a vet tech she had plenty of experience cleaning up messes. It was best to just get at it.

“Come on, lets get you up from there.” With gentle guidance, she settled the pregnant Omega on his cot. “Whatever it is that you were offering, he ain’t buying. He ain’t like that.” The Om frowned, looking toward the door. “I know you've been trained to serve. And most Alphas would likely jump at the chance to knot you. Doc Benny sure would. But that boy there," Ellen shook her head to emphasize her point, "He ain’t like most Alphas. He won’t use you. He only wants to help you. So you best cut out those games you’re playing, you hear me?” Om-2 gave a small, confused nod. Ellen turned to eye the other occupant of the room. “You too. Behave yourself.” Om-1 nodded. "He don’t need you flaunting your goodies or stinking up the place with your fera-, whatever you call them. That boy works hard to control his urges. He don’t need you making life harder for him. Got that?” 

Both Omegas nodded in unison, not all together certain what they were agreeing to but not wanting to displease their caretaker more than she already was.

“And if either of you pull that crap on ole Bobby, he might just paddle your backsides!" Ellen chuckled to herself then sobered again. "I'm going to go talk some sense to him now.” She gathered her equipment and the patient charts. “You boys be good, y’hear?”

 

She found him in the hallway that led to the treatment rooms. He’d put distance between himself and temptation but it didn't take a mind reader to see the boy was still frazzled. Head down, fingers combed nonstop through his hair as Sam paced the corridor. “You okay, kid?”

Sam's head snapped up, eyes wide with the fight or flight response. "I'm fine." Sam breathed out, Adam's apple bobbing while one hand combed nervously through his hair one more time.

"Like hell you are." Elen protested, taking a good measure of him. "When's the last time you slept?"

Sam frowned, caught on the defensive. "I slept last night."

"Yeah, sure you did! I've checked the charts, Sam. You were monitoring Om-1's vitals every hour. I'm guessing at best you got a few cat naps here and there. And, I bet, you ran around full steam all day. Looks to me like you're running on empty, kid!"

"I'm okay, Ellen." Sam countered, ducking his head, hair flopping to hide his features again. "Don't fuss over me."

"Somebody's got to. You don't seem to have the sense to take care of yourself. Have you even had a decent meal today?"

"I said, I'm fine." Sam stated firmly, pulling himself upright to his full height. Ellen was a good friend and colleague but she had no right to poke at his personal life. "Just drop it, okay?"

"No, Sam, it's not okay. You can't save the world by running yourself into the ground. You are taking too much on your shoulders, kid." Ellen stood, hands on hips, as she studied the distraught young man. “Sam, I’m not trying to give you grief. I’m trying to help. Listen, how about I take over the watch tonight? If you can hang on a couple hours, I’ll run home, see that Jo and Ash are fed and set for school tomorrow. They’re old enough to spend one night alone. Then I’ll come back and take over here. What do you say? You could sleep in your own bed tonight.” She offered as enticement.

“No, Ellen. I can’t let you do that. Jess expects me to see to the Omegas. Not you.” The last thing Sam wanted to do was anything more that might piss off Jessica. And he realized, although he didn't want to admit to Ellen, that he probably would not be welcome in Jess’ bed tonight. “I’ll be fine. Om-1 is stable now. I’ll catch up on my shut eye tonight. I promise.”

Ellen’s eyes narrowed. There was little point arguing with the big dolt. She couldn’t force him to be reasonable. "You know, kid, you're not in this alone." Sam answered with a nod but she wasn’t sure if he meant it or was just trying to put an end to her meddling. "At least promise me that you'll eat a decent supper. There half of a Subway Italian in the fridge, extra peppers and spinach." She had intended to have that for lunch tomorrow, but if it put some meat on the boy's bones, her sacrifice would be well worth it.

"Thanks but no thanks. Karen sent over supper last night, more than enough to feed me two nights." Sam assured her. And if he was lucky, if no one had raided the fridge during the day, there should be pie too. Last night he had been so preoccupied that he had never gotten around to eating any. "I'll be fine, Ellen. I swear I will. You go home and take care of your family."

"I will on one condition." She gave him a hard maternal eye, which translated as she meant business. "You promise to call if you need help."

Sam offered a small smile of concession, "I will. I promise."

 

Om-2 stared at the closed door. He was confused by what had just happened. He looked to the Other. In those bright blue eyes he read disbelief to match his own. An Alpha had denied his own desires. An Alpha had turned and run rather than use an Omega. The concept was hard to believe. Om-2 would certainly not have believed it if he hadn’t seen it himself. This was a strange situation.

Om-2 moved, shifting to sit beside the Other. Their hands reached for each other automatically.

[Hurt?] the Other asked in their finger tapping code.

[No hurt] Omega-2 responded promptly, [Babies good]

[Babies?] the Other questioned, puzzled by the plural. When his companion had referred to 'babies' earlier he had assumed he meant past whelpings.

Om-2 brought their joined hands to rest on the swell of his belly. He smiled with satisfaction. [Two boys / Saw] With his free hand he stroked the mound lovingly. [Tall Alpha different/ keep babies]

Omega-1’s face pinched with worry. It didn’t matter which Alpha owned them, Omegas were not allowed to keep their babies. It was foolish to hope otherwise. His Companion should know that. He would be hurt, sad when the babies were taken. Om-1 wanted to warn him, urge him to be sensible, not to hope. He looked at his Companion who sat lovingly caressing the swell of his babies. He should caution him but as he studied the wistful profile, Om-1 found he could not kill that hope when hope was all he had.

 

Sam stared at the microwave as he heated his leftovers. He should be starving. He hadn't eaten much today. Food, even Karen's cooking, didn’t hold much appeal. Ten seconds, nine- he had promised Ellen he would eat- five, four- so he would eat. He would eat, but he wouldn’t enjoy it. He hated to eat alone. Eating alone underscored everything that was wrong with his life. He was alone. Utterly alone. Mother dead. Father dead. Brother missing. Girlfriend so angry she couldn’t stand the sight of him.

'Ding' 

The microwave signaled. Sam considered forgetting his promise to Ellen. He had absolutely no appetite. Maybe he should just take the Omegas their final rations for the day and get some shut eye. Depression weighed on him. He just wanted to curl up in the corner and let the world forget about him. But he had promised Ellen. He had responsibilities. He shouldn’t, couldn’t give in to this black mood. He had to keep going.

Inspiration struck as Sam took his meal from the microwave. There were other beings here, he realized. He didn’t have to eat alone. There wouldn’t be much conversation, he conceded. Well at least the Oms wouldn’t nag him. Hurriedly he assembled a tray. It took only a few minutes to grab the Omegas' food from the supply room. As an afterthought he added the pie to the already crowded tray.

Sam balanced the heavily ladened tray carefully, as he opened the door to the Oms' temporary quarters. Two heads snapped up as he entered. Two sets of eyes dropped in unison. Om-2 shifted guiltily, caught out of his assigned place, perched on the edge of the Other's bed. He very much did not want to anger this strange, new Alpha. There was a chance, maybe there was a chance... This Alpha was different. Om-2 sensed that. He believed that.

"I brought dinner." Sam said as he set the tray down on the small table beside the couch. "Food." He clarified, seeing no reaction from his dinner companions. He set a dish near Om-2 then took the other to Om-1. "Here, let's sit you upright." Sam lifted the reclining Omega, wedging pillows behind his back for support. He noted the Om's paleness and pinched features. "I know it hurts, but you need to start moving around." 

Om-1 laid a cautious hand on his bandaged abdomen. He dared to give the Alpha an inquiring look. Sam understood the unspoken question. "You've had surgery." Sam explained. He had wondering if the Omega should be informed about his condition. Could he possibly comprehend what and why the hysterectomy was necessary? There was only one way to know. “After you whelped, the afterbirth was never expelled. It rotted inside your belly. You nearly died. The doctor had to cut out the infection.” Sam paused, unsure if he should say more. “You can't whelp any more babies." 

Om-1 frowned, trying to understand. 'Surgery' was not something that had meaning to him. He remembered being sick, his belly hurting badly. He remembered burning with fever, shivering with chills. 'Cutting' he understood. Some Alphas liked to cause pain. But this Alpha was gentle. He gave medicine to ease the hurting. No more babies? No more babies. Om-1 wasn't sure how he felt about that. He looked to his Companion. He saw the worry on that beloved face. He saw the sadness in the piercing green eyes. He would have to be strong for his Companion. Om-1 nodded to the Alpha, indicating he understood, communicating that he was alright.

The Alpha smiled at him, patting his head. "Here. Try this. You need to regain your strength." The Alpha handed him a bowl of food.

 

Callie closed the colorful book, a small smile gracing her lips. It really was a fun read, she conceded. A good story, with a morale and everything. She remembered the variety of voices the old guy had used when he read to Drew and Jenna. He'd nearly acted out the different characters. That had all played back in her head as she read the pilfered book alone in her room. Her smile grew. For maybe the first time in her life, reading had been fun. Not an assignment, a must do or else. The book had been fun. Not that she would ever admit that to the old fart or the hovering cow, Callie thought, forcing a scowl to correct her features.

She liked the message of the book. 'A person's a person, no matter how small.' If only everyone knew that. 'A person's a person, no matter how small.' The line ran over and over in her head as she pulled out her notebook and markers. She wrote the words large, in bold block letters. Switching to another color, she started adding embellishments.

She was tired of being pushed around by everyone- caseworkers, cops, judges, fake moms, fake dads. Everyone said they were acting in her 'best interests'. Bull crap. No one ever asked what she wanted, what she needed. None of them really cared. She could take care of herself. And Drew and Jenna, too. Early on she'd learned that when you started counting on grownups, that’s when your life got screwed up. That’s when they would let you down.

Even Momma. 

Callie made bold, sharp strokes in red. Added a black outline and orange highlights. Even Momma let you down. Momma had screwed up her life and her kids', too. 

Callie could remember when things hadn't been so bad. Drew was just a baby then. That was before Poppa had gone to jail. Purple flowed onto the page, swirled around fat blue teardrops. He killed a woman, people whispered when they thought she wouldn't hear. Shot a woman while robbing a minimart. Killed her for drug money. Shot an innocent woman to feed his habit. Callie sniffled, wiped the moisture from her eyes. She remembered Poppa. Poppa with big hands and strong arms and a big laugh. Maybe, she thought, for like the millionth time, he had been trying to feed his wife and kids. But the 'why' didn't matter. Poppa had killed a woman. He went to prison. 

Momma hadn't done so good after that. She tried, Callie knew, she did try. She worked crappy jobs. Long hours. For never enough money. Callie had to help by taking care of Drew. They were barely getting by when Mr. Alastair showed up. He was nice at first. Kind of. He had a big, swarmy smile and talked big. Promised to take care of them. Promised them everything would be alright. Momma just had to be nice to his friends, that’s all he asked.

Momma got sadder and sadder after that. Mr. Alastair had lots of friends. They visited every night after Momma had locked her and Drew into their bedroom. Callie tried not to listen to the strange noises, the loud voices or fights that happened more often than not. It was hard pretending that she didn’t hear her Momma crying. Or Mr. Alastair’s yelling. Pretending that she didn’t see the bruises or blackened eyes. Momma kind of spaced out after that. Callie took care of Drew mostly all the time. They would have been okay. Her family would still be together if the truant officer hadn’t stuck his nose into their lives. Everything had gone to hell after that. Momma had to go to a special place to detox. She and Drew went to separate foster homes. It was awful. The only good that came out of that mess was Jenna being born.

When Momma came home with her new sister, Callie thought everything would be alright. She and Drew returned home. They were a family again. For a little while. Until Mr. Alastair showed up again. And the caseworker. Momma started using again. And selling herself. It wasn’t long before all three kids were thrown back into foster homes. Sometimes together. Most often not. She and Drew and Jenna had done nothing wrong but they were the ones who were punished.

Life sucked. Emotions welling inside her chest, choking her, Callie ripped the decorated page from her notebook. 'A person's a person, no matter how small.' What a bunch of shit! Callie scrunched the paper into a ball and threw it into the far corner of her for the moment bedroom.

*

Sam ate on auto drive. Once he took the first bite, his body took over, demanding that he refuel. As always, Karen’s cooking hit the spot. It wasn’t until he was reaching for the pie that he realized the Omegas were only picking at their food. 

"Not hungry?" He asked, knowing there would be no answer. Considering the savory aroma of his meal, he imagined that the boiled chicken and rice had to be pretty bland, if not downright unappetizing. Sam looked the pie again, considering the three pieces. If he went by the book, he should keep the Oms on a strict diet, especially No.1 who was still on post-op restrictions. But both were severely underweight. And they looked so sad. Suddenly it was very important to Sam to give the Omegas a little pleasure. "I'll be right back."

He made a quick run back to the clinic's breakroom. He grabbed plates and forks. It only took a few minutes to return and divvy up the dessert. "Here. Try this." Sam handed each a plate. "Take it slow. It’s kind of rich. It might not agree with your stomach."

The Omegas stared at the food they had been given. This looked nothing like their usual feed. Om-2 drew an experimental finger through the bright red gooey stuff oozing out. He studied the traces clinging to his fingertip. It looked distressingly like blood. He chanced a quick peek at the Alpha just as he shoveled a big bite into his mouth. The Alpha hummed appreciatively, eyes closing as he chewed. 

"Oh, that's so good. Karen is the best cook!" Sam enthused. "Try it." Sam demonstrated, reloading his fork. "I think you'll like it." 

Loathe to disobey their new Master, Om-1 and -2 awkwardly wrangled a bit of pie onto the unfamiliar plastic tools. Glancing at each other for courage, they placed the bite into their mouths. In unison they chewed. Sam chuckled as he saw Om-2's eyes light with pleasure. Without prodding the little Omega forked up another bite. Om-1 followed his example at a more dignified pace. 

Sam's face split into a grin. Introducing the Oms to pie was a silly, meaningless accomplishment. But seeing the satisfaction, the joy on their faces, suddenly Sam knew the hard work, the inconveniences, the personal headaches would all be worthwhile. Rescuing these unfortunate beings was all that mattered.


	18. Chapter 18

After his companionable dinner with the Omegas, Sam spent a couple of hours tending to the animals being boarded overnight. He made a point of giving each a little extra attention and exercise before bedding them down. Next he went on to dry and fold the never ending laundry that was the curse of all the Vet Techs. Ellen, who often handled most of this task, would be pleased, he thought as he stored the clean towels and bedding. He folded the Oms’ spare clothes, considered tucking those into one of the storage lockers but worried that Ellen would have to search for them when a change was needed. Better to just put them in the Omegas’ temporary quarters, he decided.

Both Omegas started guiltily when Sam re-entered their room. He should have knocked, he realized belatedly. They were entitled to a degree of privacy at least. Om-2 was seated on the edge of Om-1’s bed again. Obviously they found comfort in each other’s nearness. Om-2 looked uncomfortable perched upright like that. His back was probably aching. Sam considered the arrangement of the cots. When they'd been rescued, they pair had been sharing one small mattress.

“If you’d like, we could move your beds closer.” Sam offered. At the twin puzzled looks, he explained, “You know, side by side. Here let me show you.” It didn’t take much effort to move the portable bed up against the other. “There. Now you can relax and still be close.” Sam pantomimed laying down. Obediently Om-2 rose, circled the occupied cot and laid back upon the empty one. He waited for the Alpha’s next instruction. “Relax. Make yourself comfortable.” Sam urged, reading his tension. The pregnant Omega rolled awkwardly onto his side to face his Companion. The cot shifted as he moved, creating a small gap between the beds. Sam frowned, that would widen every time either moved, defeating the purpose of rearranging the beds. Unless...

Sam grabbed a couple of leashes from the supply cabinet. “Let’s see if this helps.” He dropped to his knees, tugged the cot back into place and lashed one pair of legs together, then the others. “There. Let’s see how that works.” Sam rose to feet, dusting off his knees, then hands. “It’s getting late. You guys still need lots of rest. Let’s get you to the bathroom one more time, then turn in for the night. Okay?”

Basic necessities were quickly dealt with. The Omegas seemed pleased with their new sleep arrangement, curling up facing each other, hands clasped. It pleased Sam that the pair seemed more relaxed in his presence now. He spread soft blanket over each. As Sam moved toward the door, intending to turn off the room's lights, he considered his own sleeping accommodations. He could try sleeping in Charlie's chair at the reception desk again. Unconsciously every muscle in his body clenched in protest. The chair was scaled for Charlie's petite frame not his. There were other options. He could throw a couple of the big dog beds down on the floor and improvise as best he could. Or, Sam paused at the light switch, there's a perfectly good couch, that looked comfy and available right here. A huge yawn rose up to seal Sam's decision. 

"You guys don't mind if I crash here, do you?" As he expected there was no answer.

 

Sam slept surprisingly well that night. It may have been exhaustion taking over. Or the satisfaction of a good day’s work. Or perhaps the pleasant company. Whatever the reason, Sam slept soundly. That was a rarity for him. Jessica complained that he often had nightmares. He would roll from side to side, tangling his long limbs in the bedding. Sometimes he even whimpered in his sleep. And there were times when he woke, bolting upright with his brother’s name ringing in the room’s silence. Jess tried to be sympathetic. She tried to be supportive. Sam knew she did. But it was hard to be compassionate when you were repeatedly deprived of sleep. This wasn’t the first time Sam had slept on the couch.

He awoke to the aroma of fresh brewed coffee. Pulling himself upright on the couch, Sam swept his hair back, combing it into place with years of practice. He scrubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked over to check on his charges. The Omegas were no where to be seen. The Dutch door stood ajar. Shit. Had the pair escaped? Were they stupid enough to leave the comfort and protection of the clinic to make a run for freedom? Om-1 was barely ambulatory. It was foolish—

A familiar giggle sounded from the outer reception area. In three strides, Sam was across the room, out the door. Charlie sat in the waiting area. The Omegas bracketed the redhead. All three were intent on something Charlie held. Relief flooded Sam. The Omegas were safe.

"Hey there, Sunshine!" Charlie chirped as she took in his grin of relief. "Hope we didn't wake you. You were really out when I checked in. These guys were awake and looking hungry. I got them breakfast. Brought you some too. It's in the break room. Fresh java, too."

Sam was more interested in what they were doing than breakfast. "What have you got there?" He asked moving nearer.

"Oh." Charlie demurred. "It's a talking board. I borrowed it from a friend who works with special needs kids. I thought it might bridge our communication gap."

"Did it work? How do you use it?" Sam asked eagerly.

Charlie screwed up her face, to demonstrate her frustration. "I thought we were doing good. They seemed to understand the basics. Then I asked if they needed anything." Sam nodded, encouraged by the breakthrough. "Om-2, here answered 'Babies' and 'Pie'! That doesn't make much sense, does it?"

Sam had to laugh. "Maybe more than you know, Charlie. Show me how this works."

"After you've eaten. I know you. You'll forget to feed that magnificent bod of yours if you get wrapped up in a new project. Go. Have breakfast. I'm going to settle Om-1 down for a little rest. He's looking a little wilted. You know we really need to come up with some better names. This 1 and 2 bit, is kind of awkward and ugly. Don't you think?"

"I was hoping the Registry would identify their families and we would learn their real names." Sam answered as he helped her relocate the Omegas back into their room.

"Yeah, I hear you. But that's likely days, if not weeks away. In the meantime, we could come up with something better."

"Did you ask them if they had names?" 

Charlie shook her head. She looked like she wanted to cry. "I did but they had no answers."

"What do you suggest?"

Hands on her hips, mouth set in a determined line, Charlie considered the question. "How about..." She tilted her head studying the Omegas intently. "How about" she pointed at Om-2. "Tyler." Then 1. "And Perry."

Sam's eyebrow rose into a quirk of amusement. "Aerosmith? Really? Is that the best you can do?"

"I don't hear any better ideas coming from you, Brainiac!"

"How about just Steve and Joe?"

"Not much pizzazz." Charlie complained with a pout. "But it wins points for simplicity. I'll change the charts. You go get breakfast. Now. That's an order from Central Command."

 

Charlie found Sam in the break room, dutifully wolfing down the eggs, scrambled, with a side of bacon and hash browns that she had brought in. Sometimes, she swore, the man would fade away if his friends didn't look out for him.

"Hey, what's your schedule for today?"

Sam rearranged the bite of toast in his mouth. "Classes 10 til 2:30. Then I'm free. Why what's up? Need me to cover someone's shift?"

"No-oo. We're good with staffing." Charlie checked the clock on the wall. Jess would be in any second now. And she'd need to unlock the front door for clients in less than 30 minutes. "Just got a response from the Omega Welfare League." She pushed the printout of the email across the table to him. "They're sending a representative to advise and consult."

Sam's jaw dropped. “Are you serious? They’re sending somebody! I thought we’d get a form letter covering FAQ’s— if we were lucky! Shit! I wonder why they’re sending somebody? Why do we merit such attention?”

“You got me, buddy. Guess we’ll find out when the guy gets here. He’s due about 4 this afternoon.” She cocked her head toward Sam. “You’ll be here?”

“Where else would I be?”

“Do you think I should clear Jess’ schedule? She has patients scheduled til 5:30.”

 

Sam resisted the urge to check his watch again. From the consistent tapping of Jessica’s fingernails, he knew she was pissed. Really pissed. They had been waiting nearly an hour for some hot shot from a non-profit organization she considered to be a group of unrealistic do-gooders. And on top of it all, she’d cancelled paying customers to free up this time.

“Jess, I’m sorry. Really..”

“Don’t! Don’t apologize again, Sam! I knew this was a waste of time. Daddy’s lawyer said I have nothing to worry about. All we have to do is give the Omegas back.”

“Jess, we can’t. If you had seen the conditions they were being held in. Please, I'm begging you, keep an open mind. Promise me. You’ll listen to what—“

A polite knock on her office door interrupted Sam’s impassioned rebuttal. Charlie stuck her head in, “He’s here.” She seemed to be a bit ill at ease as she pushed the door fully open. “Mr. Tran, this is Doctor Jessica Moore. And Sam Winchester, vet tech. Jessica, Sam, this is Kevin Tran.”

A young, very young, Asian male entered the office. He extended his hand toward the blond woman. “Doctor Moore, thank you for making time to meet with me. Mr. Winchester, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You are the representative from O.W.L.?” Jess asked, her voice thick with disbelief.

“Jess—“ Sam broke in.

“Yes, I am here on behalf of the League.” Kevin spoke up. “I apologize for being late. My flight was delayed.”

“Sam. Come on. This has to be a joke. This kid is barely old enough to vote. There’s no way he can be the almighty savior you thought they were sending.”

“Jess, please, don't ...”

“Actually, Mr. Winchester, Dr. Moore is correct. I am young. But let me assure you I graduated in the top 5% of my class at Harvard. I passed the bar exam on my first try. I have argued seven cases for the League. All ended with a favorable verdict. I am not a savior but I am an excellent attorney. If I decide to take your case, I will do everything in my power to win.”

“‘If you decide to take our case’? The fact that you are here, doesn’t that mean you will help us?”

“The purpose of this visit is to evaluate the worthiness of this case. As you are aware, the Omega League is a non-profit organization. Our resources are limited. If we take on a case, it must serve to advance our cause. We look for cases that will establish a judicial precedent, building to the greater good. The fact that ownership of a sterile Omega is being contested is an opportunity to argue the innate rights of an Omega as a human being.”

"What you are saying is that the fact that Sam and I are being sued, doesn't matter. For you, we are just pawns in a larger game."

"Essentially correct, Dr. Moore. Although a favorable judgement in your case would likely coincide with the O.W.L. agenda."

"Sam, I'm asking you. Give the damn Omegas back. It's the logical thing to do. Daddy's attorney said..."

"Jess, I don’t care what he said. I can't do that. I won't do that. With or without Mr. Tran or the League's help, I'm going to fight for the Omegas. Even if I have to act as my own lawyer. Even if I have to fight you." The blonde stared up at him. Her look cold and equally determined. But she held her tongue, for now. Sam has certain that was for the sake of decorum. Jessica didn’t like to make a scene in public. He would have to reckon with her later when they were alone. He knew that would be an ugly scene. But what matter now was the Omegas and this opportunity. "Mr. Tran, where do we begin?"

"Call me, Kevin." The young man said with a pleased smile. He liked the Alpha's determination and dedication. He liked the man. The woman, the vet, he wasn't so sure of. Kevin Tran prided himself on being an excellent judge of character. It was a useful tool for a litigator. "I want to see your records. Any documentation of the rescue. The medical charts. I want a list of potential witnesses."

"I'll have to call Jo. She should have the video of the rescue. Or she may have turned them over to Sheriff Mills as evidence." Sam said, thinking as he pulled out his cell phone. "Damn my battery is dead. Jess, can I use your office phone?"

"Of course." She answered. Sam didn't seem to hear the sarcasm to her voice. Or he didn't care. "By all means, it's all yours. Use my office. Just don’t leave another mess. I'm going home." Head held high, she made a dramatic exit. It was unfortunate that neither man spared the time to watch.

From his briefcase, the young attorney pulled out the legal pad on which he made notes last night and during his flight from D.C. Before he'd arrived he was 90% sure he would take this case. If not as the primary litigator then as a Friend of the Court. This might be the case that they could take to the Supreme Court. Kevin consulted his notes, he looked up at the man waiting for his call to be picked up. "Sam, who is the plaintiff, Rowena McLoed? What is her relationship to the defendants in the animal abuse case.?"


	19. Chapter 19

"You've had previous contact with the defendants." The young attorney sought clarity, "But to your knowledge you've never met Ms. McLeod?"

"I knew Gavin in high school. He and his father moved to the area during of our junior year, I think it was. He sort of stood out, you know, what with his accent. And his attitude."

"Were you friends?"

Sam paused to assess the past. "I tried to be his friend. I knew what it was like to be the new kid in class. To be uprooted from one place. Plopped down in another." He shook his head sadly. "Gavin wasn't easy to befriend. He talked big. Acted--" Sam searched for the right word. "Wild. Anyone who hung out with him was soon up to their ears in trouble. School suspensions, expulsions, on the cops’s radar, time in juvie, I mean Juvenile Hall."

"I am familiar with the vernacular, Mr. Winchester." 

"Please call me Sam. Mr. Winchester was my Dad."

"Was? Your father is deceased?" Kevin inquired. It didn't pertain to the case but it was usually a good idea to get to know your client. 

"My Dad died when I was twelve. Cirrhosis of the liver. My Mom died when I was just a baby. By the time Gavin showed up I'd been in more foster homes than I care to remember. But right then, I was in a good place, the best place a orphan kid like me could ever hope for. And I didn't want to mess that up. Plus with my Dad's history, I didn't want anything to do with alcohol or drugs. That meant I soon didn't have much to do with Gavin either."

"It would be safe to say that young Mr. McLeod has an extensive criminal record." The attorney theorized.

"I don't know." Sam countered. "Not for sure, anyway. Jody, I mean, Sheriff Mills could tell you. Like I said, the kids who hung out with him ended up in a lots of trouble but Gavin-- he always seemed to skate free somehow. He bragged about having 'diplomatic immunity'. The other kids called it was 'dollar immunity'. When the shit hit the fan, his old man would swagger in and buy his way out of trouble. From what I've heard Crowley is quite a wheeler dealer. It's said he can talk a straving man out of his last slice of bread."

"And this Crowley," Kevin checked his notes, "Fergus 'Crowley' McLeod, do you know him personally, Sam?"

"I know of him." Sam emphasized, with a small derisive snort. "I don't travel in his social circle. You know—the Country Club- Connoisseur of fine wine and food- Patron of the Arts- Defiler of other men's wives-- that social set. At least that what all the gossip says."

"And to your knowledge you have never met Ms. McLeod?"

"I didn't even know there was a Rowena McLeod until Sheriff Mills served me with the lawsuit."

"Yes, well, according to the paperwork, she holds the deed to the farm. The argument could be made that all the property on said farm is Rowena's, not Gavin's or Crowley's. Your search warrants, your seizure orders don't cite her. I suspect that's a loophole her attorneys are likely to exploit."

Sam's expression hardened with indignation. "That's all it takes-- a goddamn legal loophole for those bastards to get away with all that abuse. If you had seen the hell those poor creatures were living in-"

A knock on the office door interrupted him. Charlie popped her head into the room. "Sorry to barge in. I'm going to head out now. Got some messages for you. Sheriff Mills can't meet with you tonight. She has to take her kid to karate class. But if you're desperate she'll be free by 9:30. Ellen says Jo turned all of the vids over to the Prosecutor's office but she kept copies of the still photos if that will help. Jo's on an overnighter to check out U of SD. And Ellen says all our overnight gluests have been fed and bedded so you should take care of yourself. And last but certainly not least, " Charlie rolled her big beautiful eyes dramatically. "Bobby called, he's got his tail in a huge knot 'cuz you're not answering your phone. I think he'd like you to give him a call, like as soon as possible if not sooner."

"Shit, if Bobby’s bothered to call more than once, it must be important." Sam was already reaching for the office phone. He dialed the number from memory while he explained his sometimes cantankerous foster father. "Bobby hates phones. Says they're always interrupting his work. Says folks waste half their lives yakking on 'em, gossiping about other people's business.

"Hey, Bobby, sorry for missing your calls. No problems, just forgot my charger at Jess'. My cell is dead. Yeah I spent last night with the Oms again. No, I'm ok. No, haven’t had dinner. The Omega Welfare League sent an attorney. We've been reviewing the case against Jess and me. He says he'll want to talk to you too. Eventually." Sam fell silent as he listened to the other end of the conversation. 

"That's real generous of you and Karen. I know I'm always welcome. Yeah. Yeah. I hear you. Let me check." Sam slipped the receiver to the side to address Kevin. "Are you hungry? Do you like lasagna? Homemade from scratch. Karen makes the best. She's a great cook!"

Kevin Tran hadn't passed the bar at 22 years of age by being stupid or shy. "Sounds good to me." Eager to fill the void in his belly, he began packing up his notes. 

 

As he drove up the driveway, Sam’s mood lifted. The house glowed with welcome. At least it did in Sam’s eyes. Kevin saw a rambling old farmhouse with a wide porch that needed a coat of paint. For Sam this would always be home. Karen and Bobby held a very special place in his heart. He parked his aged Honda beside Bobby's pickup and lead his guest up the back steps to the kitchen door. Knowing he was expected, knowing he was welcome as family, Sam opened the door and stepped into the warmth of the only real home he'd ever known. 

"Sam!" Karen exclaimed, rising from the kitchen table where she had been seated with a teenage girl. She came to him, reaching up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek and give him a quick hug before turning to greet her guest. "And you must be the lawyer here to help our Sam." Karen offered her hand. "I'm Karen Singer."

"Yes, ma'am. Kevin, Kevin Tran." Two small hands clasped his in a loving grip. "Pleased to meet you. Thank you for the invitation to your home."

"Sam knows he and his friends are always welcome here. Come meet the rest of the family before I get you your suppers. I'm sure you boys are starving." She turned to the wide eyed girl still seated at the table. "This is Callie. Callie, this is Sam and Kevin."

The teen blushed, offered a timid greeting, then ducked her head to stare at her textbook in feigned concentration. Karen's eyes narrowed but she covered the awkward moment .

"We've been grappling with her math homework." Karen shrugged and shook her head as she started toward the other room. "I don't remember eighth grade math being so complicated when I was in school. I swear that stuff was in my high school geometry class, which I admit, I barely passed. Sam, you got good grades in math, maybe you could set us on the right track before you take off tonight."

"Be happy to help." Sam added earnestly as he followed Karen into the comfortable living room with Kevin at his back. He grinned at the sight of Bobby, big and burly as ever, ensconced on the couch with a small child on either side. The book, "Yertle, the Turtle", one of Sam's personal favorites, was open on Bobby’s lap. More books were stacked beside each kid. Memories rose up, flooded Sam's heart. Among all the reasons Sam had to love and respect this man was that Bobby had taught him to love reading and learning. That was a gift beyond measure from Sam’s perspective. 

"This is Drew." Karen continued the introductions. "And Jenna. And my husband, Bobby." Bobby started to set the book aside, to rise and properly greet his guest. Seeing the kids' disappointed expressions, Kevin stepped forward.

"Please, Mr. Singer. Don't get up. I'm sorry to interrupt you. I'm Kevin Tran. Thank you for welcoming me into your home."

"Our pleasure. Happy to have anyone who's here to help our Sam and those pitiful Omegas."

"I intend to do my best, sir. This case could be significant in the advancement of Omega rights." Kevin stiffened his spine. The man seemed friendly enough but both of the children were gaping at him oddly. 

Karen noted their curious stares. "Drew, Jenna, close your mouths and stop staring." She chastised quietly. "You are forgetting your manners."

Drew's mouth snapped shut. He tugged on Bobby’s flannel sleeve as he stretched up to whisper rather loudly in the vicinity of his ear, "You said he had an egg for his head."

Bobby scrubbed at his beard, properly chagrined. "Hush, now, boy. We've been reading too much Dr. Seuss. Your imagination is getting the better of you."

"Bobby Singer, don't you go blaming that child for repeating your words. I’ve told you a hundred times, little pitchers have big ears. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Our apologies, Mr. Tran."

The young man smiled warmly. "No need to be concerned. I've been called much worse than an egghead. But I’d prefer it if you call me Kevin."

“Kevin it is. Gentlemen, if you’ll take over for me helping Callie with those darn linear equations, I will happily get your supper on the table.” As she left the room, Karen turned to give her husband a warning look. “And you, Mr. Singer, behave yourself!”

 

“Thanks, Sam, it seems so easy when you explain it!” Callie’s eyelashes fluttered as she stared up at the hunky guy seated beside her. “I wish you were my teacher instead of Ms. Naomi Pain in the Butt.”

“I don't think Karen would approve of that description.” Sam cautioned, fighting to keep a straight face. Fortunately Karen was busy tucking the younger children into bed while Kevin interviewed Bobby about the rescue.

“The other kids call her worse than that. And she is a pain. You would agree if you had to listen to her go on and on about axises and angles and all. Plus she looks like she ate a lemon.” The girl puckered her lips and turned her face up toward Sam to demonstrate.

Sam couldn’t help it, a guffaw escaped. “I’ve had a few profs like that. But even if they’re lousy teachers, it’s still your job to learn. You are only hurting yourself if you just tune them out.” He smiled down at the teen. He genuinely liked the girl. “You’re smart. You’ve got the brains to go far. I can tell you Karen and Bobby will back you all the way. They’re the best.”

“You were one of their kids?” She asked, eyes downcast, as she nervously picked at a ragged fingernail.

“Their first. And I gave them hell, I mean, heck.” He corrected quickly. “By that time, I’d been in more foster homes than I care to remember. Most were crappy. The grownups just did the minimum for the money. You know what I mean. A couple, though, were truly awful.” Sam frowned, remembering the beatings, the deprivations, the hands where they shouldn’t have been. He forced back the bad memories. “Bobby and Karen aren’t like that.”

“Yeah, they’re angels sent from heaven.” Callie sniped, with a roll of her eyes and a shrug of feigned indifference. “It doesn’t matter anyway. We won’t be here long. Our Mom is in rehab. She’ll be clean soon. Then we can go live with her again.”

Sam nodded, giving her a gentle smile. He knew the chances of their mother staying off the drugs, being able to care for three kids were unlikely, if not impossible. He read the girl’s troubled eyes. She knew it too. But it wasn’t in him to kill the only hope she had to cling to.

“How goes the math wars?” Karen asked as she swung into the kitchen. She hoped that she had timed it right and wouldn’t have to deal with any more x’s and y’s and where they belonged on a graph. At least not tonight. Callie had the smarts, she just needed a little encouragement and extra effort to do well in school. It was Karen’s responsibility as a foster parent to give her that. Which was why she checked the kids homework assignments every day. 

“All finished.” Sam answered with pride, “Callie aced it. Even did the extra credit problems!”

“That’s great. Now you’ve got lots of time to read those chapters for English.”

The girl groaned dramatically “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. Go on up to your room to read. Bobby and I need to talk some stuff over with Sam.”

 

“Karen, Bobby, that’s a very generous offer but are you sure? These Omegas are— like lost souls. They have no life skills. No initiative. They have to be fed and cared for round the clock. They have to be protected. As a matter of fact I should be back at the clinic right now, taking care of them.”

“Well, we weren’t figuring on doing it alone, idjit.” Bobby snarled. “Your old place has to be a better place for them than Jess’ clinic. Karen has spent all day sprucing it up some. And there’s that daybed in the living room for you to sleep on. I’ll be able to keep an eye on them during the day. We ran it by our caseworker, she signed off on the plan as long as we ain’t setting up a breeding operation.

“And that’s another thing. Om-2 is due to whelp in just a few weeks. Twins, no less!”

“All the more reason to get them into a safe, comfortable setting now.” Karen argued. “Sam, be reasonable. Bobby overheard you and Jessica fighting. You have to move the Omegas by Friday. The sooner, the better. We have a place, it doesn’t have to be a forever home. But it is there for them as long as they need it.”

“Karen, you have no idea what you'd be getting into...”

“If I may interrupt,” Kevin put in tentatively. “ If the Omegas could be trained to live independent, productive lives that would be a major coup for O.W.L.. I have a colleague who was proposing just such an experiment. I could contact her. She might be willing to relocate here, at least temporarily. It would not be wise to move the Omegas until the issue of custody has been resolved."

"I don't know." Sam hesitated. He considered Karen and Bobby. "I don't want to burden you with my problems."

"Sam, sweetie, just because you are the Alpha that found them, rescued them that doesn't make them your responsibility. I love you for caring so much but this is our screwed up society's fault. We all share the blame and the responsibility. Let us do our part to help."

It sounded so reasonable when Karen said it. They were trying to help. And it was true that he had no legal claim to the Omegas. Everyone one just seemed to assume he did. Sam looked over at the young attorney. If they lost this lawsuit, custody of the Omegas would be a moot point. But in the meantime... 

"Alright. I'll bring them over in the morning. Kevin, go ahead, contact your colleague. See if she's willing. Now I should be getting back to the clinic. Kevin, can I drop you off at your hotel on my way?"

 

"Well this is it!" Benny proclaimed with pride. "This is my clinic. At least 40% of it, is mine."

Quentin studied the one story brick building with a jaundice eye. “Not much to look at.’’ He drawled. “Ain’t even got your name on the sign.”

“The business was already named before I bought in. My partner picked it.” ‘All Creatures Great And Small Veterinary Clinic’ was too wordy and a bit wussy to Benny’s way of thinking. But Jessica had named it after the book that had inspired her career choice. And Benny, ever the southern gentleman, firmly believed a man did not argue with a lady. Especially a lady who looked like Jessica Moore. Trying to impress his old friend from back home, Benny added. “Too bad you can’t stay til morning and meet my partner. I’m telling you, pal, Miss Jessica, is a sight to behold!” He carved curvy lines through the air to describe her figure as he whistled appreciatively. 

A lecherous grin spread across Quentin’s face. “Well, now, maybe I’ll just have to hang around for a few days to check her out.” 

Benny felt a small growl rise up in his throat. He already had more than enough competition in the Alpha department. Thinking of Sam, he realized belated that the parking lot was empty. Winchester's beat up old Honda was no where to be seen. That struck him as odd. He had expected the do-gooder Alpha to be guarding his pet Omegas again tonight. Benny scrubbed at the scruff on his cheeks as he considered Sam's absence. 

“Let’s go inside. I’ll give you the grand tour.” Benny offered as he parked his Range Rover near the back door.

“Oh, that will sure be exciting.” Quentin replied with a heavy coat of sarcasm. “Are we going to play with the cute kitties and pups?”

“I’ve got something a hell of a lot more interesting to show you.” The Cajun promised as he lead the way inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoping for some reader input here: Who would you like to be Kevin’s colleague? I’ve considered Amelia, Meg, Ruby and Donna. Each has interesting traits that would add to the story. But I’m not convinced any are right. Maybe I’m overlooking someone. Any thoughts or suggestions will be considered, but I have the final say.


	20. Chapter 20

The inkling that he shouldn’t be doing this crossed Benny’s mind as he led his visitor through the darkened corridor of the clinic. Everything was quiet. The overnight patients were bedded down for the night. Everything was tidy. Charlie had already pulled the charts for the morning’s patients. They were stacked neatly on her work station. Ever efficient the little red haired spitfire even had the first pot of coffee set up on a timer, he noted in passing. Maybe they shouldn't be here, Benny questioned himself as the two men paused outside the adoption room’s door.

Quentin gave his old buddy an inquiring look. What the hell was Benny up to? This didn't look like it could be any kind of fun to him. But then again, the Cajun did have a strange definition of entertainment. Quentin well remembered the time that Benny had introduced him some ‘good ole Louisiana’ fun. It had been nighttime then too. Quentin looked around, reassured by the building’s seemingly safe surroundings. This time, at least, he wasn’t out in the middle of a goddamn swamp surrounded by the glowing eyes of a dozen or so alligators. He had nearly pissed his pants that night. There wouldn’t be a gator on the other side of that door, would there? Benny wasn’t that crazy, was he? 

“Keep your voice down. And move slow.” Benny cautioned. “Don’t go Alpha crazy on me. You got to remember these are recovering patients. We don't want to spook 'em. Got to show some restraint, you all hear me?”

“Sure man, whatever you say.” Quentin assured, more confused than ever now.

Benny gave him a hard look, debating one last time if he should go through with this. Quentin returned his gaze steadily. Benny shoved his misgivings in a box, labeled 'I'll feel guilty about this later.' He didn't intend to back out now and look like a fool in front of his old friend. Benny opened the Dutch door. He flipped on the lights as they stepped inside. 

* 

“You sure you got everything you need?” Sam asked as he pulled into the parking lot of the Sioux Falls Best Western. "I'm sorry I can't offer you a place to stay. Personally I hate motels. They always depress me."

"Don't worry about me, Sam. I'll be fine. The accommodations actually looked quite comfortable." He had done a fast inspection when he checked in, before his Uber driver had taken him to the vet clinic. "I learned the hard way that it was best to secure a bed for the night first. You don't want to be caught with no room at the inn in some one horse town." Kevin smiled apologetically. "And I’ve gots lots of work to keep me occupied. There are some calls I have to make.” Kevin verbalized the mental list he had been making. “Then I have to review my notes. See if I've overlooked anything. Which reminds me, I'd like to interview Sheriff Mills in the morning. Do you think you could arrange that?"

"Yeah, sure. It's not too late. I can give Jody a call yet tonight. She knows you're in town. She'll probably be expecting you. I’ll let you know when she can see you." Sam hesitated then plunged on with the question he most needed answered. "Does that mean you are taking our case? Will you help us keep these—" Sam had to search for the right word, "Monsters from hurting more innocent creatures?"

Kevin studied the young man in the driver's seat. He was handsome, appealing with a hard luck history that made you just want to hug him tight. And his co-defendant, Dr. Moore was stunningly beautiful and intelligent. The press would love them -- a young couple in love, fighting to protect abused animals and Omegas. Kevin could already picture how Meg would spin the press releases. With any luck they might generate some network interest, maybe a few talk show interviews. It would play well to the public, he was sure. Might even pull some donations into the League's always strained coffers. Maybe it should have bothered Kevin that the defendants' public appeal was a factor in his decision. But he dealt in the reality of nonprofit organizations. They couldn't afford to take cases they couldn't win or argue cases that would give O.W.L. a black eye in the public opinion. With limited resources you had to be practical. And sometimes you had to be hard hearted. Kevin locked eyes with Sam in the dim light from the dashboard. This time his decision was easy.

"I need to get my supervisor to sign off but yes, I want to take your case." The look of relief that flooded his companion's face was reassuring. Kevin was confident he could sell this case to Mother. She, after all, was the one who had trained him to look for more than the legal facts when considering a case.

*

The sudden brightness of the overhead lights, had two heads snapping up, alert to the intrusion. Om-2 shifted quickly, as quickly as he gravid condition allowed. He turned toward the open door, his body a barrier to shield the Other.

"Ooooeee! Lookie here!" Quentin exclaimed as he drew in a delicious lungful of Omega scent. "You're just full of surprises, man!" He landed a playful punch to the Cajun's bicep. The prospects for a good time had just improved significantly! He drew in another deep breath. Mmmmm, luscious Omegas, ready and waiting!

A firm grip on his upper arm pulled Quentin back from Alpha bliss. "Remember I told you-- you gotta keep your control, man. No Alpha frenzy, y'hear!"

"Sure, man. Whatever you say." Quentin was quick to agree. Hell, he would agree to just about anything if he got to party with a couple of real live Omegas! Quentin's attention zeroed in on the shy one at the back. He was a real looker-- sleek dark hair, big beautiful blue eyes and a pouty mouth just begging to suck on an Alpha knot. Oh yeah, this was his idea of some real fun! Benny's career choice suddenly made sense to his college friend. Being an animal doctor gave Benny access to Oms. It would be worth getting scratched and bitten to knot Oms. "I want the dark haired one." Quentin stated as he started forward. "You can have the scrawny cow."

"Showing your ignorance, boy-o." Benny challenged as he to advanced. "That one is damaged goods. Had to be spayed. Uterine sepsis. Still not up to par. He can't take a knot. But this one," He brushed his hand over the newly cropped hair, "This one is ripe and full of life. Have you ever knotted an Om that's ready to pop? While you fuck them, you can feel the whelp moving, inside and out. Adds that special something extra to a fuck." The hand moved down to grasp the smooth chin. Benny tilted the head back to admire the hooded green eyes and the plump lips. "Oh, man, it is glorious to knot a whelp heavy Om!"

"Maybe for you." Quentin conceded, reluctant to admit his inexperience. "But it sounds kind of sick to me-- like kiddie porn or pedaphilia or something, you know-- it's not my thing. I'll stick with this one," He used one hand to grasp the dark hair, coping Benny’s move, he angled the submissively bent head upward. Quentin traced over the pink lips with his index finger. "Can't take much effort to swallow a knot, can it?" The lips parted as the Om inhaled sharply. "Yeah, you want a nice big knot, don't you, Blue Eyes?"

* 

Sam drove back toward the clinic leisurely. He felt pretty good about the current situation. Everything seemed to be falling into place. The problem of housing the Omegas had been resolved, thanks to Bobby and Karen. They really were the best people. He was so lucky to have them in his life, he thought for the millionth time. And Kevin had agreed to represent him in the lawsuit. The kid was young but sharp. Sam liked him. And despite the brief time they been acquainted, he had confidence in his abilities. You didn't graduated from Harvard Law school and pass the bar at that young age unless you were a genius or close to it. If Kevin's co-worker agreed to come train the Omegas, things would be perfect. That would free up some of Sam's time. Enough that he might have a chance to patch things up with Jessica. At least he could hope there was a chance to rebuild their relationship. 

Sam braked for the yellow light at the upcoming intersection. His Honda came to a full stop as the light turned red. There wasn't much traffic tonight. The car idled a little roughly as he waited for the green. Probably should have Bobby take a look at the engine. No doubt the car was overdue for a tune up. Sam wasn’t too good at keeping track of those kind of things. A car pulled out of the Seven Eleven's parking lot on the opposite corner, drawing Sam's attention. Only one other car remained in the lot. Must be a slow night for business, Sam thought. He glanced down at the Tupperware container Karen had packed full of peanut butter cookies- one of his favorite treats. They were especially good with a glass of cold milk. 

The light changed to green. Sam pressed his foot to the accelerator, crossed the intersection and pulled into the convenience store's lot. It would only take a few minutes to pick up a half gallon of milk. Five, ten minutes tops. He would share his treat with the Omegas- Steve and Jerry, he corrected himself as he unlatched his seatbelt. Calling them by names would emphasize their humanness.

*

The hand crept lower, over the coarse metal of the collar, over the sensitive ridges of scars it had created, into the head opening of the comfortable shirt. The hard fingers brushed over his scent gland once, twice then pressed in. Om-2 leaned into the touch willingly. The Alpha who talked pretty inhaled deeply as a fresh wave of Omega pheromones clouded the small room. A growl of arousal rose in the Alpha's throat. At his back Om-2 heard the new Alpha also sniff appreciatively. Maybe, Om-2 thought if he cooperated, if he tried hard to please, maybe he could draw the attention of both Alphas. He did not want them to use his body but he would willingly offer himself if that would spare the Other. Anything to spare the Other who was still weak from his illness and so sad because he couldn't have more babies.

Hands pulled at the fabric covering him. Om-2 lifted his arms, letting the Alpha bare his upper body without a struggle. Fingers tugged at his nipples, squeezed his breasts. The Alpha wasn't gentle but he wasn't deliberately trying to cause pain either. There was a difference. Om-2 had experienced enough cruelty to know that.

“Look at these pretty little titties! Ain’t nothing better than milky tits.” The Alpha sank down beside him on the bed. He bent to suck at his breast. Om-2 sank back upon the mattress. The Alpha followed, mouth at work, hands roving.

*

Sam frowned as he turned into the clinic’s parking lot. He recognized the ATV parked at the back door. Benny was a partner, he had keys to the clinic. He had the right to be there after hours. Sam pulled up beside the Range Rover. Benny never came in after hours. Shit, he shouldn’t be here. Not now. Chances are he couldn’t be up to anything good. Abandoning his good feelings, Sam rushed into the clinic.


	21. Chapter 21

“I’m glad you agree, Mom. This case has the potential to garner a lot of publicity. I’d like to consult with Meg on that. If she can get us some airtime, Sam is an articulate, good looking Alpha with a personal story that will melt the hardest of hearts.”

“And he’s willing to participate in a publicity campaign? Some clients object to parading their personal life for the cause.”

“Sam is searching for his Omega brother. It’s been more than a decade since he was impounded. Sam has no idea of his fate. I think he’d welcome the publicity if it helps him find his brother.” Kevin clicked his ball point pen repeatedly. It was a nervous habit he controlled well in the courtroom. However talking to his own mother was another matter. Linda Tran expected a lot of her son. She always had. And Kevin hated to disappoint her. “I haven’t out and out asked him for that commitment but,” he hurried on to reassure his mother who was also his boss. “He did say he’d do anything to find his brother.”

Mrs. Tran frowned at the phone on her desk, grateful that they were conferring over the speaker phone rather than Skyping. It was so typical of Kevin. Good assessment skills. Excellent prep work. Her son could be a merciless interrogator in the courtroom. But he had a definite soft spot when it came to the client. She would have to keep that in mind. It might be significant in the future. As director of O.W.L. she tried earnestly to be aware of the staff’s strengths and weakness— all of them, even her son’s. 

”Meg won’t be in the office tomorrow morning. She’s got an interview with NPR. I’ll tell her you want her input. And, with your permission, I’ll brief her on the particulars.” Linda made a note to herself to schedule a face to face with their young Public Relations Director asap.

”That would be great, Mom. I think things might start happening fast here. Sam says Crowley usually buys his way out of trouble. I’ve got a meeting set with the local Sheriff. I want to be sure the charges aren’t swept under the rug. I’m looking into what civil charges might be applicable, just in case.”

”Excellent. Always wise to have a back-up plan.”

”Speaking of which, Mom, I thought Missouri might like to get involved. If we can promote the independence of these Omegas, this case would be stronger in court as well as the public eye. Just the other day, Missouri was saying...”

“Kevin, if you want Missouri’s help, you’ll have to ask her yourself. You know that traveling isn’t high on her list of pleasures. And I can’t imagine that Sioux Falls has much to offer as enticements.” Mrs. Tran cautioned. “And it’s not the director’s place to ask favors of a cofounder. You have to do your own dirty work, son.”

”Mom...” Kevin tried to keep the whimper out of his tone.

”Son. Has your Godmother ever let you down? If Missouri can’t help you herself, she will know someone who can.” 

*

Sam scented them as soon as he entered the building. The whole place reeked of Alpha/Omega arousal. 

He heard them before he got to Charlie's work station. An unfamiliar voice whined, "This one is a waste of effort."

Benny’s singsong tones answered, smug and a bit breathless. "Told you he was damaged goods. Give this one's mouth a go. He's eager enough to take on two."

By the time Sam made it to the open doorway, he sported a full blown case of Alpha rage and moral indignation. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Take your goddamn hands off him!"

The two Alphas froze. All heads pivoted to the man framed in the doorway.

"Just doing what comes naturally, brother." Benny drawled in a placating tone, aware that Sam was blocking the room’s only exit. "You here to join in on the good times? Like I told ole Quent here, I ain’t opposed to sharing.”

"I said take your hands off him! Raping a patient isn’t my idea of fun! Move away!" Sam advanced into the room, standing tall and menacing. As a rule he was opposed to fighting. And under these circumstances, he didn’t like the odds. Two against one was never good. Especially in a confined space. With non-combatants at hand. Sam had learned enough self defense in the various group homes and schools over the years so that he could usually hold his own. But this could get messy real fast. And there was always the possibility, he wouldn’t come out on top. Benny was a mature Alpha, a few years older than himself, with more heft and unknown experience. All things considered, it would be better to avoid coming to blows. "Why don’t you and your pal get out before I call Sheriff Mills and have your sorry asses hauled away."

”You ain’t playing nice, bro." Benny countered, his eyes narrowing as he sized up the party crasher. It looked like he had best prepare for battle. He relinquished his hold on the Omega and ease his erection back inside his pants. It was always advisable to tuck the family jewels safely away before facing off against an adversary. Luckily he hadn’t popped his knot yet. "I tried being nice. I offered to share. It's only fair. Tell me you ain’t dipped your wick in that honey hole there." He nodded toward Om-2 who had already retreated into the arms of his companion.

Sam’s anger flared higher. His rage filled the room. Om-2 thought the once gentle Alpha somehow grew bigger, more menacing before his eyes. He saw the other Alphas take in the change, as well. They shifted uneasily as they perceived the heightened threat.

Every Alpha instinct in his body demanded that Sam beat these two miscreants into bloody pulp. It was what he wanted to do more than anything but he had more to consider than his own urges. And if he let his Alpha instinct rule over reason was he that much different than these two. Sam made the conscious effort to use his rational mind. Reason over aggression. They were civilized men, after all.

"Jess will be pissed if we break up this place. And it will be more cash out of your pocket to make repairs.” Sam pressed any advantage he could scrounge up. "Plus I doubt that the state ethics board would think highly of a vet misusing an Omega patient. Or brawling with another Alpha. You've only got a probationary license in the state of South Dakota, right?"

Benny growled, low in his throat. He wasn’t about to back down. As he saw it, Winchester sorely needed a beat down to put him in his place. The boy needed to be schooled in respecting his betters. Miss Jessica being sweet on the boy had given him airs that Benny was more than willing to knock out of that mop top head.

”Benny,” Quentin intervened with a nervous wail, “Let’s just go. This has all harshed my vibe. Let’s just get out of here. There’s got to be somewhere more fun than this, even in Podunkville, South Dakota!”

Benny cast an aggrieved look at his old college chum. Quentin had always been a great one for baying at the moon but he was also the first to tuck tail and run when trouble arose. With Quentin showing his yellow belly, there was little point in going for blood now. Benny puffed out his chest, determined to save as much face as possible. “You and me, Winchester, you and me! Someday, someday soon we’re gonna settle this. And, I swear on the grave of my Grandpappy, you ain’t gonna be walking away so pretty that day.”

*

Sam held his place until he heard the car peel out of the parking lot. Let Benny assuage his bruised ego by burning rubber. If he was lucky, maybe one of Sheriff Mills’ deputies would nab the prick for speeding or reckless driving. Right now Benny was no longer his problem. Sam drew in a shaky breath. His knees felt weak. His stomach was queasy. His head throbbed. It was the typical aftermath of an Alpha adrenaline surge that lacked a physical outlet. It would pass. It always did. Sam turned his attention to the room’s occupants. The Omegas were huddled together on the far side of the joined cots, wide eyed and pale.

”Are you okay?” Sam asked anxiously. “Did they hurt you?”

Both shook their heads quickly. Om-1 stretched out one arm to snag the talking board. Sam stepped nearer to see what he wanted to communicate. “No hurt. Scared. Please. No angry. No hurt. Please.”

Belatedly Sam realized that his presence was as traumatizing as Benny and his cohort had been. The Alpha face-off hadn't reassured the Omegas at all. The fact was the clinic is not a safe place. Bobby had warned him of Benny’s interest. He just hadn’t considered how vulnerable, how accessible they were in a public place. Shit, would they really be any safer somewhere else? That thought scared him but he had no choice but to try. Sam concentrated on projecting a soothing presence. Scenting the change in his persona, the Omegas visibly relaxed. Sam smiled, reassuring himself and the Oms that he could and he would protect them. He could make their lives better. Starting now. First he would call Bobby and Karen to let them know he was moving the Omegas in tonight. He would throw some supplies in a box or two— bandages, medication, some food, whatever else came to mind. Enough to get them through a day or two until he could get organized. Sam was thinking fast as he ordered the Omegas to get dressed. He was moving faster. He had a responsibility to keep these two unfortunates safe. And Sam Winchester took his responsibilities seriously.

*

Callie heard the telephone ring from the sanctuary of her bedroom. She tensed, knowing that a late night call was rarely good news for a foster kid. She looked around the small bedroom. The wallpaper was old fashioned and too frou-frou floral for her taste. But the light purple color was kind of nice. When they had first arrived, Karen had rambled on about picking the paper because of the small tree that flowered outside the window. The flowers came in the spring, Karen had said. She claimed that they smelled terrific. Fat chance, Callie thought to herself, that she would ever see or smell that lilac in bloom.

Callie slipped out of the weirdly pretty bed- like most of the furniture in the house it was old, ornate and made of real wood. As quietly as possible she tiptoed to the door. Turning the knob she eased the door open just a crack, enough that she could hear anxious voices coming up the stairwell. She strained her ears, trying to make out the words.

"They’re coming now?" She heard Karen question, her voice high and concerned.

Bobby’s reply was terse. "He said thirty minutes."

The voices faded to incoherency as the adults moved away. Callie closed the door, leaning her back against its solidity. ‘They’ no doubt was someone from Social Services here to screw with her life again. It wouldn’t be the first time she was yanked out of a placement in the middle of the night. Callie squared her shoulders and tightened her jaws. It didn’t matter. She was tough. She could take being jerked around for no reason. But Drew and Jenna- they were just little kids. And they liked it were, she could tell. She thought that Karen and Bobby had liked the two younger ones too. Maybe it was just her that they wanted out of their house. She knew she hadn't been the most cooperative foster kid. But the littler ones had been good. Maybe they could stay. It would hurt to be separated again but at least they would be together and could look out for each other.

She was the trouble maker. She was old enough to take care of herself. Really, she was, Callie told herself as she pulled out the stained white t-shirt and the too baggy jeans that she’d been wearing when she had arrived at the Singer’s house. Most foster parents didn't like it if you tried to take the clothes they let you wear while you stayed with them. Besides she wouldn’t be caught dead in these cutsie “Hello Kitty” pajamas out in public. She scrubbed a couple of wayward tears from her cheeks as she quickly dressed. There was no point in even asking if she could take the notebook and markers with her. She had been stupid to think this place, these people were any different, that this placement would be any better than any of the ones before. 

*

“Should I wake the little guys?"

“Callie!" Karen gasped, surprised by the teenager slouched in her kitchen doorway. "Honey, what are you doing up?” Karen paused in the process of packing groceries from her pantry. “It’s late. And you have school tomorrow.”

”I heard the phone. Is Donna coming to get me or all three of us?" The girl demanded, with only the slightest quiver of her bottom lip.

Karen frowned. Her mind was occupied, trying to think what the Omegas would need for supplies for at least the next morning. Did Oms like pancakes for breakfast or would something more nutritious like oatmeal be better? She hadn’t been considering the children asleep upstairs. Karen always kept her pantry well stocked in case of emergency placements. Foster children, as a rule tended to be hungry for a good meal, as well as love.

"Why would Ms. Hoscum be coming at this hour?" Karen asked genuinely confused. She put both the pancake mix and syrup as well as the canister of oatmeal into the box. Better to have a choice than not, she decided. She made a mental note to add eggs and milk to the nearly full box. She could pick up more after dropping the children at school. Maybe Sam could make a list of what the Omegas preferred to eat...

"It’s okay. I don’t blame you," the young girl explained, "or Mr. Singer. I know I’ve been a pain in the butt. But the little guys," She added hurriedly, "Drew and Jenna really like it here. Maybe you could see clear to keep them. Please." 

Karen finally got a grasp of the situation. She and Bobby had never asked for a child to be removed from their care. There were no middle of the night departures from their home. How could anyone ever do that to a child? She thought indignantly. "You aren’t going anywhere. Neither are Drew or Jenna. Sam, you remember him, from dinner, hmm?" She explained quickly, "He has some-“ Karen hesitated, unsure how much the girl was aware of Alpha/Omega biology, "Some friends who need a place to stay for a few days. There's an apartment over the garage they'll be using. As long as you are up, you might as well lend a hand. Put a gallon of milk and a carton of eggs in here. Oh, and some butter." Karen added as she loaded a couple jars of her homemade jams in as well. "And a loaf of bread. That should do for now." Karen didn’t miss the relief in the girl's eyes as she followed instructions but for the moment there was work to be done. "Bobby is over at the apartment, starting the furnace and turning on the water and such. I need to get bedding and towels. Could you help me carry those over, while I take this box?"

"Sure, I can help." Callie answered with a sincere smile.

*

"Ah, Mummy Dearest, how nice of you to come!" Crowley crooned as the deputy admitted him into the jail's visitation room. Under his breath, for the benefit of his dressed to the nines mother, he added a snarky, "At last." 

"Oh, Fergus, don't be petulant, me boy. It hardly suits a man of yer age." Rowena remonstrated as she fluffed her auburn hair in the reflection of the mirrored wall.

"The name is Crowley, as you bloody well know." He growled as he took the chair opposite her.

"Oh, let's not start that again. I should know yer name. 'Twas I who gave it to yoo."

"And it was you who abandoned me. Left me at that orphanage to be adopted out as a farm hand. I earned the name, Crowley with every blister on my hands and welt on my back."

"If yoo persist in this unreasonable attitude, I shall be forced to return to Monte Carlo where my presence is very much appreciated." Rowena sniped, turning her back to her son.

"Just why are you here, Mother?" Crowley demanded. "And don't give me any of that hearts and flowers motherly love and devotion crap."

Rowena turned, jaw clenched, eyes hardening as she glared at her only son. "I'm here," She pronounced precisely, "Because yoo and that dimwitted excuse yoo call an offspring have totally bolloxed things. Again!" She diverted her eyes to the heavens, feigning teariness. "And after all I've done for the pair of yoo."

Crowley looked heavenward also, his tone equally long suffering. "Time for an other chorus of 'Rowena, fount of all goodness and generosity.' Please, Mother, spare us both from that refrain."

Rowena pursed her lips as her temper flared. "I've done all I could to be a good mother, a generous mother. Yoo wanted to raise dogs, I bought yoo a breeding farm. A fine farm, with prime stock."

Crowley shifted sharply in his chair, slapping both hands on the table between them. "I wanted to breed fighters, not pocket sized poop machines that yip and yap incessantly. As usual, Mother, you got it wrong. You never listen to the details. And it is the details that matter!"

Rowena shrugged her tiny frame. "I've tried over and over again to do right by yoo. Tis never enough. Tis never right. What more can a mother do?" She implored the heavens.

"To start with, you can get me out of this stinking jail." Crowley growled.

All prim and proper, Rowena responded, a tight smile gracing her ruby painted lips. "The lawyers are seeing to yer bail even as we speak. Yoo should be free tomorrow. I’ve hired the best to defend yoo against these vile charges. ‘Tis costing me a pretty penny or two, I’ll have yoo know."

"What’s taking them so bloody long!"

"Funds must be transferred." Rowena answered with a long suffering sigh. "Arrangements made." She flicked her manicured nails. "As yoo should well know, I don’t leave me money gathering dust in the States. The taxes here are outrageous."

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the lack of feedback I’m getting for this chapter, I’m guessing you readers aren’t fond of my choices to have Missouri Mosely as the Omegas’ mentor or that Sam didn’t beat the shit out of Benny. Sorry if I’ve disappointed you.


	22. Chapter 22

Bobby was waiting at the foot of the stairs when Sam pulled up in his aged Honda. A flood of relief filled the young Alpha to know he was no longer alone in this mess. How had his life suddenly become so complicated? 

“I’m sorry to spring this on you tonight, so late and all. I just,” Sam gestured helplessly as he got out, sweeping his hair out of his eyes. “I couldn’t leave them there any longer. I know. I should have listened. You warned me about Benny!”

“If that swamp monkey hurt ‘em, I’ll kick his ass from here to New Orleans.” Bobby blustered, grinding a fist against an open palm. “Teach him professional ethics the hard way.”

“From what I saw, he, they- Benny had a friend with him- didn't hurt the Oms. Scared them. And me. If I had been a few minutes later.” He shook his head recalling the scene. “He backed down but it was a near thing. And I thought there was a chance that after a few drinks, maybe with some reinforcements, they might come back and try again. That’s why I called- why I wanted to come right away. Like I said I’m sorry to dump this on you and Karen.”

“Enough, Sam. Stop apologizing. We’re family. That’s why we're here, to help when we can.” Bobby gripped his shoulder to give Sam a little shake. “Now how about we get them settled in their new home. What do you say?”

“Thanks, Bobby.” Sam’s gratitude was heartfelt. With a nod of acceptance, the older man turned toward the car. He pulled open the back door and peered inside. The Omegas were huddled together in the back seat, scruffy blankets clutched around their shoulders, bare feet tucked beneath their bodies- maybe for warmth or maybe to make themselves smaller, less vulnerable.

“Hey there,” Bobby spoke softly, putting all the reassurance he could muster into his voice. “Remember me?” He thought Om-2 gave a small nod, maybe relaxed his grip on the other one a bit. “Everything is gonna be all right. Sam brought you here to be safe. Got a nice cozy place for you to stay. To live. How about you come see?”

*

Up, up, up, he climbed, trying to keep pace with the furry faced Beta. It was hard. He was out of breath. Tired and scared. His babies, kicked and rode heavy in his belly, no doubt agitated by his tension. The steps were steep, cold and rough against his feet. 

Behind him, the Other, still weak from his sickness and what had been done to make him better, faltered. Before he could go back to help, the giant Alpha said quietly, "I've got you," and scooped the Other easily into his arms. The Alpha carried him without straining. Proof of his strength. He doubted that he would ever think of this Alpha as gentle again. Not after the display he had made when he challenged the others. It had been impressive- one warding off two without blows, with only words as his weapon. It was testament to his power, to his persona.

Furry face- Bobby, he remembered- arrived at a landing, fenced in on all sides. There were two metal chairs and a small table here. The table held a pretty pot of colorful flowers. Was this where they would be held? It was so open, so exposed. He stepped onto the landing, wondering if this was where his babies would be whelped. Reflexively, a shudder of dread, of cold shook his exhausted body. 

The Beta noticed that. He frowned. "Come on. Let's get you out of this night air." His voice was rough with concern, "Karen will tear me a new one if you end up sick." He led the way across the deck, to open a door. "Come on." He encouraged, "Come on in."

He followed with both relief and trepidation. As an Omega, he had learned, there was always reason to fear the new, the different. Cautiously he peered into the open door. His mouth went slack with wonder. Beyond was a world he had forgotten existed. He stepped into a world of color, warmth and comfort.

*

“Sam Winchester! What were you thinking, taking these poor beings out without shoes or coats.” Karen admonished, rushing forward, she snatched the crocheted afghan from the back of the couch. She wrapped it around the Omega standing open mouthed just inside the door. The poor thing was obviously heavy with child. “They’re freezing. Can’t you see they’re shivering?”

“I- I wasn’t thinking... didn't have any... I... I just wanted to get them safe.” Sam stammered, hammered again with the burden of responsibility. He looked down at the Omega he carried. It was plain to see he was cold and feeling poorly.

“It’s okay, Honey.” Bobby stepped up to reassure his wife. “They’ve survived a lot worst than some chilly weather.” Bobby knew how Karen worked, just like that she had taken the Omegas under her wing. There would be no stopping her mothering now. “Sam, set Om-1 down over here on the couch. Callie, sweetie, can you grab another blanket from the bedroom, please?”

The girl hurried off, her mind spinning with questions about the newcomers. At her back she could hear Karen fussing over them just as she had when she and the kids had first arrived.

“We’ll take care of their wardrobe tomorrow.” Karen vowed. “Right now, lets just get you situated in your new home. I’ve stocked the kitchen with the basics." She opened the refrigerator. "Eggs, milk, cheese, cold cuts, fruit." Then a cabinet. "Bread, cereal, peanut butter. I wasn't given much warning, so the variety is limited. If I missed anything or there’s anything you’d like, just make a list. I stop at the grocery at least a couple times a week, so it will be no problem to pick up more supplies.”

“I brought some stuff from the clinic,” Sam volunteered. “Just some basics. And their medications.” He started for the stairs but Bobby stopped him.

”I’ll get it, son. You look worn to the bone. Besides you wouldn’t want to miss the grand tour.” Bobby aimed a mischievous wink at Karen as he headed out the door. She landed a playful swat on his backside as he passed.

Callie hustled back into the living room with a full size blanket to drape over the Omega perched on the couch. He looked small and helpless swaddled by the yards of fabric. Both Omegas followed Karen with their big, sad eyes as she toured the apartment. 

"Sam, I figured you might plan to sleep over, so we put a roll away bed in the back storage room. And a small dresser. It's a bit cramped but it should be more comfortable than sleeping on that couch. And that will give you all a bit of privacy, too." Karen crossed to the doorway Callie had used. “The bedroom is through here. The bathroom is here." She looked from one Omega to the other, wondering if they were comprehending anything she was saying. The one on the couch looked ready to collapse. The pregnant one stood stoically nearby, circling gentle hands over his distended abdomen. The slow deliberate motion emphasized his condition and begged the question. "When is the baby due?"

The big green eyes flooded with tears, protective arms curved around the big belly as the Omega shrank in upon himself. He made no reply to her question. Confused, anxious to know what she had done wrong, Karen looked to Sam for an explanation. "The babies- he's carrying twin boys- aren’t due for three or four weeks. He didn't answer you, because he can't. Those collars keep them from talking. And, before you yell at me again, the damn things haven’t been removed because Benny- and Jesse- think it’s best not to mess with them. They’re the doctors. They know more about Omega care than I do.”

"Oh." Karen managed the weak response. She felt a bit sick but she steeled herself to continue. "There are a couple of cribs up at the house. When the time comes we can put one in the bedroom. It will be a bit crowded but-“ She swallowed hard, feeling overwhelmed. “Hopefully it will do.”

"It will be fine. Thanks for all your hard work.” Sam responded tiredly. His earlier Alpha hormonal surge had disappated, leaving him spent by the night's turn of events

Bobby huffed his way back up carrying a large box. Sam stepped forward to sort through what he had so hurriedly packed. “I should get these two settled for the night.”

”Let me help.” Bobby offered. “We could all use some sleep. You especially, missy,” he cocked a finger at Callie, “you’ve got school tomorrow.”

Sam held back a groan. He had classes in the morning too, in particular, an 8 a.m. Chem lab that he couldn't afford to skip. He had opted for early morning classes so as to be free to work afternoons and evenings at the clinic or his Uber gig. Normally the schedule worked great. He had just never considered that he would end up guardian to a pair of Omegas. Life sure could throw you for a loop! Feeling a wave of panic swell, overwhelmed by the sudden responsibities, Sam fought for balance. It's only for a few days, a couple weeks at most, he reassured himself. If the Omega Registry couldn't identify their families and reunite them, he could, Sam decided turn the pair over to O.W.L.. That seemed like a solid plan. Surely the Omega Welfare League was better able to care for two Omegas than a struggling, financially challenged college student. When that was done, he could concentrate on getting his own life- and maybe if he was lucky, his relationship with Jessica- back to normal. But that was days, weeks, God forbid, maybe months in the future. They had a lot to get through in the meantime.

”They need their meds before bed. These are for Om-1.” He handed off the first bottle of medication to Bobby to administer.

Bobby checked the label for the proper dosage. He quirked an eyebrow at the name. “Joe? Who the hell is Joe?

That garnered a weary chuckle from Sam. “Charlie’s idea. More personal than Om-1 or 2. This one is Joe. After Joe Perry. He’s Steve, for Steve Tyler. You know, Aerosmith.” Seeing Bobby’s scowl of disapproval, he assured him. “It’s only til the Omega Registry tells us they're real names.”

*

“You were awfully quiet up there.” Bobby commented as he escorted the women in his life back toward their home. Karen threw a repressive look his way. Bobby might have heeded her warning but he held to the opinion that it was better to answer kids’ questions directly rather than let them stew in half truths or outright misconceptions .

“Didn’t know what to say.” Callie admitted sheepishly. She chewed on her lower lip while she considered the opportunity. “What are they? Who did that to them? Why is Sam taking care of them?”

Bobby shook his head as a rueful chuckle escaped his lips. “Well, that pretty well sums up the subject. You ask tough questions, kiddo. Good questions.” He looked to his wife for her input. From the expression on Karen’s face, it was clear she wasn’t offering to help him explain. “They are Omegas. You ever hear of them?”

Callie felt her face heat with embarrassment. She hoped that in the darkness her foster parents wouldn’t see her blush. She shrugged, reluctant to admit what she knew but knowing she had to say something. “Some, I guess. Omegas are-“ she didn’t have the words to phrase it delicately. “They’re like, you know, crazy animals. All they want is, you know,” She shrugged again, she didn’t want to use the vocabulary she knew in front of Karen, “Morning, noon and night.”

Bobby laughed without a trace of humor in his tone. “You tell me, did they look like they wanted to be fucked?”

“Bobby Singer!” Karen gasped, appalled by his profanity. Callie couldn’t help but giggle at the couple. She liked seeing grownups put on the spot.

“Karen, honey, it’s best she know the truth. She’s old enough. And I suspect curious enough that she’ll be seeing more of our guests.” He turned back to Callie and his original question. “What do you think? Were those two looking for sex?”

“No.” Callie gave the easy answer. Then she frowned remembering the expressions on those pale faces. “They looked scared and sad. Lost and desperate.”

“Knew you were a smart kid.” Bobby nodded with approval. “They’re all of that. And more. Truth is they were used and abused by men who should have been taking care of them.” Bobby scratched his chin through his whiskers, trying to decide how to explain to the teen something plenty of adults didn't get. "You likely won't learn about this in school. It's not something our society is proud of. Stripping a group of people of their rights and wellbeing because of prejudice and stupidity," he shook his head sadly "all the while our government, our leaders sit on their asses and look the other way. Too scared, too cowed to speak out against the fanatics bandying their self righteous cause lest they be damned too.”

"Bobby, she’s just the child." Karen broke in, uncomfortable with the direction her husband was heading. "You'll give her nightmares!"

"She ain't a child, Karen. She's nearly grown. She's got a right to hear the truth." He heaved a high sigh as they started up the steps to the house. "When the Omega mutation first showed up, it out and out scared folks. Freaked them out big time! Healthy boys on the verge of manhood suddenly going mad for sex- and ending up pregnant to boot! Folks didn't know what to make of it. The boys were locked up, locked away, for fear of it- whatever 'It' was- spreading. Laws were passed, opinions formed long before science got a grip on what was happening." He paused just at the door. "It's easy to demonize what you don't understand. And doubly hard to change people's minds once they are set."

*

Om-2 moved carefully, molding his gravid body to the Other’s. They shifted minutely until both were snuggled in each other’s arms. Fatigued by the evening’s events, lulled by the comfort of their new surroundings, sleep loomed readily. Om-2 fought for wakefulness. The Other lay quietly, eyes closed, dark lashes stark against his pale cheeks. His breathing was steady and even. Perhaps he was already asleep?

Gently Om-2 tapped a query upon the Other’s back. “Awake?” He felt the dark head nod against his chest. He tapped another question. “Okay?”

The Other answered his Companion, tapping on his swollen belly. “Good. Tired. You?”

Om-2 took a moment to look around through the darkness where they lay. He stroked the soft bedding that covered them. He thought of the powerful Alpha who protected them. The Alpha had talked about the babies he carried. The woman had mentioned a crib- that was a bed for babies, he remembered. His babies. With a rare smile gracing his lips, Om-2 responded, “Good. Good. Sleep.”


	23. Chapter 23

As he often did, Sam beat the sun out of bed. You didn't make it as a self supporting student with two (often more) part time jobs by bunking eight hours of sleep. Sam had learned to survive on an average of five, but he could function on less if need be. He knew his friends worried that he was pushing himself too hard. He didn't let that bother him. The fact was he didn't have time for many friends. He didn't let that bother him either. Those that loved him knew, that like many kids who had experienced early personal losses, Sam did not make attachments easily. But those relationships to which he did commit, he held tenaciously.

Now Sam scrambled to start his day. He was already shaved, showered and dressed. More importantly, he had managed to get in nearly forty minutes of precious study time prepping for today's round of classes. Midterm exams were fast approaching. He had to keep his grades up if he wanted to keep the scholarship that made college possibile.

Sam gave the pot of oatmeal simmering on the stove another stir as he stared at the closed bedroom door. He hadn't heard the Omegas stirring yet. Much as he hated to do it, he would have to wake the pair. Before he left for the day, it was be his job to see that they were fed and their medical needs attended to. Both Bobby and Karen had promised to look in on the pair during the course of the day but Sam had no intention of burdening others with his own responsibilities.

Sam rapped politely on the bedroom door. He caught himself waiting for a verbal reply and shook his head ruefully at his own foolishness. He turned the knob and opened the door. Both Omegas were awake, sitting upright, side by side, in the full size bed. From the look of them, Sam figured they had been anticipating his arrival for some time. He wished they would have just joined him in the other room. But it seemed they would stay wherever he last put them. Somehow, Sam decided he was going to have to encourage these two to independence. He didn't have the time to see to their every need. If this was going to work, they would need to take the initiative and do for themselves.

"Breakfast is nearly ready." Big, uncomprehending eyes stared back at him. So much for independence, Sam thought to himself. And initiative. He drew in a deep fortifying breath. It going to take time, he reminded himself. Independence had been beaten out of these two over the course of years. He wasn't going to change that with a smile and a few kind words. It would take time. And patience. Lots of patience. "Get up. There will be food to eat soon." That brought a spark of interest in those watchful eyes. "i want you to shower beforehand. Then I'll change your dressings."

They were back to wide eyed stares. Sam sighed and did his best to pantomime washing up. That didn't produce any obvious results. Patience. Patience. "Get up. Come." We'll do this step by step, Sam thought, as he led the pair to the bathroom. They will learn to take care of themselves. One step at a time. Tomorrow will be easier, he added to encourage himself. Please, dear god, it had to get easier.

*

"TV is there. Here's the remote. Or there's the radio in the kitchen." The big Alpha was talking fast as he moved purposely around the living space. He looked quickly at his wrist, pulled a pained expression and continued at an even faster rate. "Help yourselves to the food. Bobby and Karen will check in on you later. It's supposed to be a nice day." He added as he shrugged into another layer of clothing. "You can go out on the porch, if you want some fresh air. But don't go wandering around the junk yard. That could be dangerous." The Alpha looked again at his wrist, specifically at the silver band encircling his wrist. The unhappy face hardened as he slung a heavy pack onto his back. "Sorry, got to go. I'm already running late." He looked as if he had more to say but shook his head and headed out the door.

The door closed at his back. The two Omegas looked at each other. They were alone again in this place of light, warmth and comfort. Only a day or two before their lives had been full of pain and misery. Now... Life was so much better.

The Companion shifted slightly, easing back against the soft cushions of the couch. When the Alpha had removed the covering on his belly wound, both Omegas had winched at the sight of the long, straight incision. Small bits of metal held the wound closed, it was far from healed. It was an ugly sight that spoke of pain. Hoping to comfort, Om-2 took the colorful covering from the back of the couch. He draped it over the Companon, who snuggled down, eyes heavy, stomach full, body weary. A nap seemed necessary. Sleep would help restore his strength, heal his body. Om-2 stroked the dark head lovingly before he moved off to explore.

There was much to see in this new world. It was filled with sunlight, softness, color and warmth. Om-2 stroked the roundness of his belly as he moved. The babies, his babies kicked strongly, happy to be safe and nourished. This would be a good place for his babies, he thought as his lips curved into a rare smile.

The food area called for his attention. The Alpha had said they were 'free to help' themselves to any of the food. Was that a test? A trap so that they could be punished? He felt of shiver of panic chased up his spine. Seeking reassurance, Om-2 looked back at the Companion safely dozing on the couch. Just his presence was enough to calm his fears. If the big Alpha, or any Alpha wanted to punish them, he needed no excuse. If he wanted to bring them pain, he could and would. It was better to believe the Alpha's words. Trust was necessary, even though it was hard to give.

Om-2 decided to be bold. He mimicked the Alpha's earlier movements. He opened the small doors on the wall, to find food equipment- plates, bowls and glasses. Behind another pair of doors were colorful boxes and jars. He took up one in each hand. He studied the picture on the box. Long shapes, flat, with lines sectioning the surface. He brought it closer, sniffed at the seam. He could detect a light aroma, an appealing sweet aroma. The temptation rose to tear open the box, to wolf down the contents. His belly was pleasantly full but here was food, available and good. There were no guarantees in his existence that food would be there when needed.

He thought of the big Alpha again. This morning the Alpha had been considerate when he worked on his back. He had even murmured apologies as he swabbed over the deeper, still open wounds. This Alpha was different. He did not enjoy their suffering. He had been kind. He had protected them and brought them to this place of safety. This new Alpha was strong and brave. He would follow his example, he would try to be as the Alpha wanted. Om-2 dared to believe the Alpha's words. He would 'help himself' to the food. Greatly daring he unscrewed the lid from the jar he held. A rich aroma filled the air. Instantly his mouth began to water. Inside the jar was a light brown paste filled with small irregular bumps. Curious, he struck two fingers into the contents and brought a sticky sample to his mouth. This food was delicious! He dipped his fingers in for more and more.

*

"Out of the way, Munchkin." An Alpha with a Scottish burr barked at him, as Kevin made an attempt to enter the Souix Falls Public Safety Building. The stocky man, not any significantly taller than he was, Kevin thought with justified indignation, shoved past him, out the doorway. He was immediately followed by a gangly young man who actually broke into a jig as he crossed the threshold, apparently in celebration of his "Freedom!" Or so he proclaimed in a loud bray of enthusiasm that forced a twitch of sympathy to Kevin's lips. 

At their rear, following at a sedate pace, was a battleship of a man. He was broadly built, square and solid with skin of darkest ebony. His dispassionate eyes pinned Kevin in place. Without a single word, this man made Kevin feel small and insignificant, more like a specimen pinned to the entomologist’s board, than an educated, valued member of society. The mismatched threesome made their way to a steel grey limousine that was waiting, driver ready, in the parking lot. The battleship rode shotgun while the other two piled into the back seat.

"Mr. Tran?" A pleasant female voice recalled his attention. "I'm Sheriff Miles." She extended her hand.

"Kevin Tran." He greeted her with a firm, professional shake. "Sorry, Sheriiff, I nearly got run over by the 'A Team'." He tried To make light of the encounter.

She nodded sympathetically as her eyes tracked the vehicle pulling out. "Well, then, you've had a look at your opponents. Fergus Crowley and son, Gavin McLoed. And their attorney." She fished a business card out of her uniform shirt's pocket and read from it. "Gaylord T. Uriel, Esquire, Attorney at Law." She glanced up at Kevin, a small smile gracing her lips. "With the firm of Zachariah, Alistair and Uriel of Chicago, Illinois." Her arched brows rose and fell dramatically. "Fancy, smanchy! I hope we country yokels are all suitably impressed." She said it louder than necessary as they walked through the bull pen where her men were at work. Kevin read it as playing to the crew. "Nothing but the best for Mummy's bad boys, hey, fellas? My office is this way." She ushered him through the door, closed it at his back. "I'll help you any way I can because, kid, i think you’re going to need it."

Sheriff Miles skirted her desk, claimed the chair and glowered at the parking lot beyond her blind covered window. "Didn't want to let their sorry asses go." She sighed and turned back to face him. "But I had no choice. Judge granted bail. With the stipulation that the defendants surrender their passports. That was at my insistence." She explained. "Mummy arrived late last night by private jet. She shows up here after hours, all dewy eyed, wailing about her poor 'bairns.' She was toting a purse the size of a suitcase stuffed, according to my officer on duty, with "Monoploy' money." She gave her visitor a wry grin. "Ash is a good man but still pretty green. He had no idea what she was going on about or how much those Euros translated to. If he had known he might have been dumb enough to take a bribe. Then those two could have flown the coop." She shrugged. "As it is, I'll say this, Mummy works fast. That big city lawyer must have driven all night to get here. He's smooth, that one is. Talks like he's announcing God's own decrees. And he's sharp. He's already filed a half dozen motions on his clients' behalf. Like I said, you got your work cut out for you, Mr Tran."

*

Karen greeted Bobby with her usual toot of the horn and wave as she passed the salvage shop on her way to the garage apartment. She didn't see any sign of her husband but this was her customary means of letting him know she was back home. She had already had a busy morning, getting the kids off to school then hitting grocery as well as her favorite thrift shops for wardrobe possibities for their newest guests.

She pulled up at the base of the stairs. Eager to share her bounty from the shops, Karen released the trunk lock and exited her Buick. It took a bit of effort to grab hold of all the bags filling the trunk but she managed. It was a good thing Bobby was no where within sight, she thought as she started up the stairs. Her husband was of the opinion that she invested too much time and effort clothing their temporary charges. He never worried about the money because Karen could stretch a dollar better than anyone. But he was known to accuse her of 'playing dress up' with the kids. The man had no sense, Karen thought with a sniff of righteous indignation. Clothes mattered. Especially when you had none. Most foster kids arrived with only the clothes on their backs. Child and Family Services provided a stipend for clothing but it rarely could be stretched to cover much more than the essentials- socks, underwear, shoes and a winter coat. Everyone should have a choice in their wardrobe, Karen firmly believed. Clothing was an expression of your personality, your mood. What did Mister I Got my Jeans and a Fannel Shirt know about the importance of fashion!

Karen plopped half of her purchases at the doorstep, freeing her hand to knock. She gathered back up the bags as she waited. No answer. Sighing, Karen shifted her load again and knocked louder. Still no answer. Fearing the worse, Karen rummaged through her purse for the spare key to the apartment. Maybe the Omegas were sick or injured. Maybe they had run away. Maybe... She found the key and shoved it into the lock. Please dear Lord let them be alright, she prayed as she opened the apartment door.

Both Omegas were seated on the couch. The dark haired one- Steve or Jerry or was it Ben and Jerry?- was swaddled in the afghan, supported by the other one. Both stared at her with wide startled eyes. Karen knew a guilty expression when she saw one. She made a quick scan of the apartment. No obvious damage caught her eye. The two seemed to be alright, she thought as she advanced with her purchases. Wait. What was that she smelled? And what was that smeared around their mouths? Karen looked more closely. She spied the jar half hidden in the folds of her crochet work. She saw the sticky hands, clutched guiltily in their laps. Well, it could have been much worse, she decided, as she dumped her load in and around the spare chair. She turned back to the pair, trying not to laugh. 

"Well, I see you've discovered peanut butter. Tastes good, huh?" Both heads nodded in unison. "I'm glad you like it. Later I'll show you how to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich." After I get you more peanut butter, she noted mentally. "Sometimes there's nothing better than a PB and J. How about we get you both cleaned up? I brought some clothes for you to try."

*

“Aunty Miz!” Kevin called out as he hurried forward to greet the elderly woman. He relieve her of the carry-on bag she trailed jist as she cleared the departure gate. He looked beyond her hopefully. "Do you have more luggage to claim?" A carry-on translated to a brief stay. Kevin was hoping that Ms. Missouri Mosely, co-founder and spokesperson for O.W.L., would be staying for the long haul. He could use her advice and heaven knew the Omegas needed her care. "Thank you for coming."

"Of course, I came, honey. How could I not, after you sent me pictures of those poor souls." Missouri said, her heart heavy with the memory. Then her eyes warmed as she laid a gentle hand on his peach fuzzed cheek. “Oh, child, you know, you grow more handsome every time I see you."

Kevin ducked his head, trying to hide the blush that crept across his face. Even though he was an adult and a successful attorney, Missouri could still make him feel like a five year old. She probably always would. 

"Patience is collecting our bags." Missouri explained, charmed by her godson's sudden unease. She took note of the quick snap of his attention at the mention of her granddaughter. "I hope you don't mind I brought her along. She'll be off to college next year, I want all the time I can get with her now. And the girl wants to learn all things Omega related. What better way than hands on? Her Daddy doesn't approve but I'm confident there will be a new generation of the family committed to the cause."

Kevin could only nod dumbly as he saw his old playmate approach. She pushed a baggage cart with ease and grace. Since the last time he had seen her, Patience Mosley had grown up. She had grown quite lovely. Quite lovely indeed. Gone were the braces. Gone were the gangly arms and legs. Gone, the scabby knees of a tomboy. The pigtails. All that had been replaced— no refined into a beautiful young woman.

”Kevin, sweetie, close your mouth. That’s my granddaughter, you're drooling over.”

"Yes, ma'am."


	24. Chapter 24

“Hey, did you forget to invite me to the party?” Bobby growled as he stepped up onto the porch. He was later than he intended but he was keeping his word to check in on the Omegas. That Karen was there was a nice surprise. That the three of them were sunning themselves on the back deck was a bigger surprise. The Omegas’ new duds made it a trifecta. He cocked his head in Karen’s direction. “I see you been busy, Coco Chanel. We gonna have a fashion show? These are some interesting get-ups.”

“Oh, you!” Karen knew he was just teasing. She didn't mind. Bobby was always as generous with his affection as his sly humor. “Don’t they look nice.” She beamed at her charges. “I’ll admit they chose stuff different than I figured but, you know, it kind of works. Don’t you think?”

Bobby gave the Oms a thorough once over. This was the most relaxed he ever seen them. It seemed like the new wardrobe made them more comfortable in their own skins. And he had to admit, they did look pretty good. Maybe what Karen always said about clothes 'making the man' was true. Whoa, Bobby, cut off that thought before he admitted it out loud. He had better be careful or the woman would have him wearing a tie- or worse yet, a suit- to all their future teacher conferences! It was bad enough he had to wear those damn strait jackets when they had to go to court. Enough, this wasn’t about him or his clothing choices.

There sat Om-1, pale faced, sleepy-eyed and loose limbed. He was clad in a button down oxford shirt and khakis topped off by a rumpled trench coat that looked a size or two too big. Bobby tipped his head in his direction. "He looks like a CPA who barely survived tax season." That produced a quiet chuckle from his lady. "Or maybe one of them Mormon missionaries on a bender?"

"Oh, you. Behave yourself. He looks very nice. They both do." If you could ignore those hideous collars still encircling their necks.

Bobby turned his attention to Om-2. He sat there sharp eyed, seemingly on guard. He looked, Bobby had to pause mentally to get it right, kind of dangerous sitting there, like he was a force to be reckoned with. The late autumn sun had put some color in his face as well as a bit of fire in his eyes. The faded hunter green barn jacket he wore suited him just fine, although it did nothing to cover the protruding belly. Beneath the jacket was a layer of flannel. Beneath that, showing because of the shirt’s undone lower buttons, stretched a graphic tee, red on black, probably for some rock band from what Bobby could see of the design.

“That one of my shirts?” Bobby questioned. His eyes narrowed as he considered that and how she had found jeans to fit such a heavily pregnant Om.

“No. It’s not.” Karen answered smartly. She was in her element now. A bargain shopper enjoyed bragging about her great deals almost as much as finding them. “I scored big time at the Paws for a Cause resale shop. They had a great selection of maternity clothes. Had to pass on a lot of it. I couldn’t see him in pastels or cute prints. But I found enough that should work. I snagged a several pairs of pants and jeans with those adjustable panels. Those should be gentle over both their midsections.” She frowned, shrugged. “I had to settle for the slippers for footwear. Hard to buy shoes without them there to try them on.”

“Don’t think it’s a good idea to take’em on a shoe shopping spree. Not in their current condition.” Bobby scratched his chin staring at the two pairs of fuzzy slippers, one pair navy, the other grey. “We could trace their feet. You know, make an outline. That would give you something to go by. A good shoe salesman could probably work with that. If you gotta, buy a couple sizes for each. Bring’em home. Try’em on. Return what don’t fit.”

Karen beamed at him, leaned over to kiss his cheek. “I knew there was a reason why I loved you, Bobby Singer.” She kissed his lips. “You’re a good man.”

“Yeah, I’m a real softie when it comes to hard luck cases.”

*

“That’s a girl.” Sam encouraged as the beagle struggled to take another step. “You can do it. Come on. Good girl!” He used both hands to rub the velvety ears as the dog savored his attention. “Tomorrow it will be easier. And before you know it you’ll be running across the yard again. But remember- no digging beneath the fence. It’s dangerous out there for pups like you. Cars-”

“When you’re done there, maybe we could talk?” Sam didn't turn at the gentle query from the doorway. “Are you avoiding me, Sam?”

“Just doing my job.” He lied as he filled the beagle’s water bowl, gave her a final scratch behind the ears and closed the cage door. He moved on to the next cage. He had a lot to accomplish during his half shift between classes. In the note he'd left for Charlie last night, he'd volunteered to do the behind the scenes grunt work of cleaning the cages and tending the borded animals. If it was possible, he would have rather not faced either Benny or Jessica. Not today.

"I missed you last night. And the night before." Jessica admitted as she stepped nearer. "It's lonely at our place when you're not there." 

Guilt swelled in Sam's chest. This mess wasn't Jess' fault. It was all his doing. He had brought complications, expenses, and legal headaches into her life, mucking up their relationship. And here he was stonewalling when she was trying to reach out to him. It wasn't her fault but he had yet to resolve in his own mind what and if he was going to tell her about Benny's actions last night. If he told her- all of it- what good would it do? Benny had bought into the clinic. He was a co-owner, a partner. Jess couldn't just fire him. If he told her, it could, probably would effect their working relationship. But, Sam debated, she had a right to know the kind of man her partner was. It was his duty to tell her. But deep in his heart, Sam worried about the outcome. If she accused her partner of sexually abusing a patient, it could ruin her practice. If...

Her hand brushed the span of his shoulders. She was close enough that he could feel the heat of her body, smell the light floral fragrance she favored. Her fingers crept under his hair to massage the tension in his neck. 

"Thank you for removing the Omegas from the clinic. My attorney is confident that now that they are no longer on the premises, the law suit will be dismissed." She laughed lightly. "After all we are longer harboring stolen property. I know it wasn't easy for you to turn them over to the Welfare League. But really, Sam, it is best for everyone. You'll see."

That made Sam pivot. He had to tell her. "I didn't. I didn't surrender the Oms to O.W.L.. I moved them someplace where they'd be safe. Last night Benny came in. Late, after hours. He brought a friend. They- they were-"

"Yes, Benny told me that he showed off our place to a fraternity buddy. Said he was very impressed."

"Jess, they were..." He saw it building in her clear blue eyes- indifference, annoyance, withdrawal. "Damnit Jess, they were abusing the Omegas. If I hadn't stopped them, they would have raped them."

"Oh, Sam," she sighed, condescending. "I'm sure you misunderstood. They were just playing with them. Teasing them."

That she didn't believe him, made his response blunter, cruder than he would have liked. "They had their cocks out, ready to knot them."

Jessica took a step back. Her jaw tightened. Color flared across her sculpted cheekbones. Annoyance. Embarrassment. Anger darkened her eyes. "Really, Sam, grow up. I'm sure the Omegas were asking for it. It's common knowledge that there is no such thing as rape between Alphas and Omegas. The chemistry is basic. Animal instincts never lie."

And I do? Sam's wounded heart wanted to shout. He had worried that the truth would complicate her life, compromise her business. He had never considered that she wouldn't believe him. Or that she wouldn't care.

Jessica paused in the doorway. "Benny warned me. I knew you were protective. He said you were possessive. A natural Alpha response. Something a Beta like me can't hope to overcome." There were tears in her eyes as she fled.

Sam chose not to go after her. He had been planning to stop by their place later, to pick up several changes of clothes and the rest of his school books. Now, he wondered if he should just get all his stuff and move out completely.

*

The Companion settled beside the Other on the comfortable sofa. They were alone now. The Beta woman had promised to return later with dinner. More food, he thought with wonder. They had never been so well fed as now. And so well cared for. He was feeling much better today, stronger, more aware. The belly wound was healing. It was less painful now when he moved. That was good. But it still saddened him to know he would never carry more babies. He looked over at the Other.

The new clothing made the Other look even more attractive than usual. It accentuated his 'bad boy' attitude. The steady, nutritious meals were filling in the gaunt cheeks. He was no longer pale as a ghost but sun kissed. He looked good. He looked human. It was hard to look human, the Companion reflected, feel human when you were naked, half starved, living in darkness and ongoing abuse. It was enough to just survive.

The Other looked up. Green eyes, warm and hope filled. He held up a small bit of clothing, his hand inside, fingers through the armholes. His free hand swept over his pregnant belly. His fingers moved, tapped out the coded message. "For babies. Mine. Beta woman said. Mine." From the bag beside him, he drew out more pieces of tiny clothing. He tossed them playful at the Companion, wanting to share his joy, his hope. He reached over, drew the Companion close. He kissed his cheek, his mouth while he promised. "Babies. Ours."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick, mostly happy chapter. I wanted to leave the boys in a good place for the weekend.


End file.
